Ned Stark Lives! Part 3
by cbstevp
Summary: The war against the Others continues as new factions from Dorne and the Vale join the fight. But a formidable new player joins the field as Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons return to Westeros. Meanwhile Jon Snow continues his mission to seek out and defeat the Great Other. Only the gods know who will win and who will lose, and who will sit the Iron Throne.
1. Chapter 1 Oberyn

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 3 Chapter 1 Oberyn**

The spear flew from his hand straight and true and hit the target fifty paces away, quivering as it stuck in the wood and straw of the practice target. The spear always hit its target, but it gave Prince Oberyn Martell no satisfaction. Nothing had given him much satisfaction for the last seventeen years now. Not since word came of his sister Elia and her children's deaths in King's Landing.

He hadn't even been in Westeros when it had happened, still on the ship that was taking him from Volantis to Sunspear. When word came to return home he had been talking to some merchants about some new trade connections with Dorne, a mission his older brother Prince Doran had sent him on since Oberyn knew Volantis well and spoke the language somewhat after having spent more than a year of his youth in the free city. Oberyn Martell was no trade diplomat so several wiser men had come with him, men who knew what to say and what to give and take in negotiations. But he was a Prince of Dorne and so his name opened doors for them and gave his party access to the inner sanctum of Volantis, the black wall that ringed the homes of the elite of the city. It was here on a hot and sweltering afternoon that Oberyn received the message from his brother to return as swiftly as possible. Robert Baratheon's rebellion was getting out of hand and the Mad King had called for Dorne to raise its spearmen to protect the realm.

Oberyn cursed when the message came, already almost a moon's turn old when he received it. He should have been told sooner. He should have not even been in Volantis, but in Dorne, or in King's Landing. He took the first ship he could, but the gods were against him and contrary winds and maneuvering to avoid pirates delayed them. By the time he reached Sunspear it was all over. Prince Rhaegar had died on the Trident. The ten thousand Dornish spearmen his brother had sent had been in the thick of the fight but had lost many and finally broke and ran at the climax of the battle.

And then came the Sack of King's Landing.

As Oberyn stood by his brother's ornate desk in his solar in the palace in their home capital of Sunspear tears flowed down his cheeks as Doran read him the message that came from Jon Arryn, the newly appointed Hand of the newly crowned King Robert Baratheon. Elia and her children were dead, killed by rampaging soldiers before order could be restored. The King sent his apologies and regrets, and promised to send their bones home.

"They were murdered!" Oberyn had cried when his brother had read the message.

"Yes," was all Doran would say and a few tears even flowed down his cheeks. He was older than Oberyn by more than ten years and no two brothers were ever less alike in temperament. But one thing they had in common was their love for their sister.

Oberyn's tears stopped and in his anger he demanded his brother give him every man in Dorne who could carry a spear so he could march on King's Landing and kill these enemies.

"Already I sent ten thousand of our men," his older brother Doran had softly replied to his request. "I know not how many live or are wounded or taken prisoner. How can the survivors come home or be ransomed if we are still at war? And if I raise more men and then when you and these men are dead, who will protect Dorne?"

"We cannot sit here and do nothing!" Oberyn had shouted and he pounded his fists in frustration on his brother's desk.

Doran stood and came from behind his desk. He was still healthy then, the first signs of the gout that would wreck his body not coming for years yet. He had held Oberyn's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "We shall have our revenge, brother. But to strike out rashly now, while our enemies are united and strong will be the death of you and me and all we care about."

In his anger Oberyn had scorned his brother. "If you have no stomach for the fight then stay here. I cannot stay still while she is dead and they still live."

Doran to his credit did not rise to the challenge. All their lives they had been of such different temperament, he the man of action, Doran the man of thinking, of consulting, of negotiation, of making concessions. Doran ordered him to stay his hand and Oberyn in his grief almost struck his brother but did not and finally agreed to obey. Oberyn had left him then and had gotten drunk for three days straight. When Jon Arryn arrived with the bones of their kin and more explanations, Oberyn had wanted to rip out his lying tongue but Doran had merely thanked him for graciously returning the bones. When asked who had done the killing, Jon Arryn mumbled his excuses and apologies, and said it was uncertain as the sack had been quite violent and all order was not restored for a few days. By then it was too late.

He had lied, Oberyn knew, and while he and the rest of the court had listened to these false explanations, all Prince Doran did was nod in a sad way and sigh. He thanked Jon Arryn for returning their loved ones and that was that. More than one angry set of eyes followed the liar as he and his men left the courtroom. Jon Arryn must have known he was in danger for he stayed only two nights and was soon gone, citing pressing business in Highgarden. The Hand of the King never returned to Dorne. As for Robert Baratheon, in the long years of his rule he never once set foot in Dorne. When years later Oberyn heard Jon Arryn died in agony, most likely poisoned, he knew the gods were exacting the vengeance Oberyn never could. And when King Robert died in agony as well, his guts ripped open by a boar's tusk, Oberyn drank a toast to the boar and wished he could have seen the pain in his eyes as Robert expired.

But that came long after Prince Oberyn Martell's own pain. When Oberyn and Doran gazed upon the bones of Elia and her children in the maester's chambers as the maesters prepared them for the ceremonial rites, they knew their deaths had been horrible. Baby Aegon had half a head. His sister Rhaenys' bones were chipped and scarred in many places and Oberyn knew that stab wounds had done that, so many stab wounds. And Elia…she was worst of all…her skull crushed, her left arm broken in two places, as if she had raised it to protect herself, and her right shoulder and many ribs below it rent in two as if a great sword had near sliced her in half.

At the dawn the next morning as they burned the bones of their loved ones on a beach nearby Sunspear, Oberyn had wept inconsolably and all of Dorne soon knew how deep their prince's sorrow was for his lost sister and her children. Revenge would be his, he promised and many Dornish wanted to join him but Prince Doran stayed his hand and so nothing was done. Many scorned Prince Doran for his weakness but many more, mostly wives and mothers and daughters, said a prayer for the continued health of Prince Doran and for his continued wisdom. Dorne could not stand alone against the Baratheons and Lannisters and Starks and so many others who had sided against the Mad King.

Oberyn stayed his wrath and decided that he had to at least kill those who had killed his sister and her children. Before Jon Arryn had left with his party Oberyn had gotten drunk with a Lannister squire and had taken him to bed. The young man told him that many were saying Ser Amory Lorch had killed the girl and Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and Prince Aegon. Over the years Oberyn had heard no other names, only these two. They were both bannermen to Tywin Lannister, who had led the sack of the capital. Oberyn saw it all now. Lord Tywin had ordered Rhaegar's children killed so there would be no future claimants for the throne. Elia had merely been in the way.

On the cool terrace of the palace of Sunspear where he practiced at arms in the late afternoon Oberyn walked to the target and yanked out the spear and put it in a rack which held many others. He stopped by a basin of water and looked at his reflection. Older, I am getting, he thought, and still I have not tasted my revenge. As he looked at his lined face he felt the years slipping by, though he also knew he was still handsome, with his dark features and lustrous hair that had receded somewhat to a widow's peak. He washed his face and hands and dried them with a soft towel and walked to the table where his lover Ellaria Sand sat sipping a cup of cool wine.

She poured Oberyn a cup and he drank deeply. He looked on his lover, his love, and marveled at her. She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever bedded but she was the best and enjoyed many diverse delights of the bedroom. Oberyn had taken many women and men to bed in his forty plus years but none had ever excited him as much as she did. They had met more than fifteen years ago, soon after the rebellion ended, and she had been his ever since. A bastard of a great Dornish lord, she had no real prospects of a good marriage and cared not for such things anyway. Four daughters she had given him, four lovely young girls to go with the other four older daughters of his begat by four other women he had taken over the years. The Sand Snakes the people of Dorne called them all, and the oldest four tried to emulate him in many ways, but none could match their father, the Red Viper of Dorne, in combat or reputation.

"I should return to the Water Gardens," Ellaria said as she put down her cup.

"The girls are fine," Oberyn told her. "My brother enjoys having them there. His own children are grown now and he dotes on ours as if they were his own."

"I know but I still miss them."

"Very well, we shall return tomorrow."

She smiled. "Good. Now what does my prince want for his reward?"

"Only you, my love."

They kissed, long and slow and passionately and Oberyn was having thoughts of taking her right there on the table when they heard footsteps and broke their kiss.

"My Prince," said a messenger, a boy no older than twelve, Oberyn guessed. "They have need of you at court."

Oberyn shook his head and dismissed him with a wave. "Let the Princess Arianne deal with it. If she is to rule some day she must learn how."

But the boy did not leave. "Ah…my Prince, she asked for you to come. There is a messenger….from Casterly Rock."

Oberyn grunted and stood from the table. "And what does the Imp want now? More pleas for us to marry his brother and sister's children to our blood? They say the Imp is a clever man but I think not so clever to not understand this will never happen."

The messenger stood there gaping at him, clearly not understanding and Oberyn saved him from his befuddlement. "So…what did my niece say?"

"There is a head, my Prince."

"A head?" Ellaria asked in surprise as she stood as well. "Whose head?"

The boy gulped. "The messenger said it is Gregor Clegane."

The smashed remains of someone's head was in a wooden box on a table and was presented to Oberyn by his niece Arianne as he arrived in the round ornate room under the large glass dome that topped the Tower of the Sun where the leaders of Dorne held court.

"He is dead at last," Arianne said, her face glowing. "The beast is finally in hell." She was tiny compared to her cousins, Oberyn's eldest daughters, only a few inches in height over five feet, but she was very beautiful, with the characteristic olive skin of the people of the Dornish sea coasts, long lustrous black hair, ample breasts that swelled beneath her silk dresses, and eyes that Oberyn knew captured many men's hearts. But she was heir to Dorne, and not any man would do for her marriage. The Martells followed the Dornish law of having the first born child, whether boy or girl, be heir to the leadership. Oberyn's own mother had ruled Dorne for many years before his older brother took her place after her death. When he died Arianne would be Princess of Dorne, leader of them all.

Prince Doran had been trying to plan for her marriage for many years now, though she refused most of the men he suggested, all of which had been unworthy of her she claimed. Old men and men without much gold or power were offered to her, and she refused them all. Oberyn knew the real reason why Arianne had not yet married and why his brother tried to make such poor matches. He had to be seen trying to make a match for her or people would talk. For a match had already been made, in secret. Arianne had been promised many years ago to Viserys Targaryen. If they had married Dorne would have risen for Viserys to help him reclaim the Iron Throne. Then came word the Beggar King was dead, his own arrogance causing Khal Drogo to pour molten gold on his head. Prince Doran did not yet tell Arianne these plans, and Oberyn kept the secret as well.

"If it is truly him," Oberyn replied to his niece, as he gazed at the head in the box. It was a large head and could have been the Mountain but Oberyn was skeptical. He turned to the man who had brought it, a young, tall, broad-chested, strong, good-looking man with brown hair and eyes. He was dressed in plate armor and a woolen surcoat that had for a sigil two long necked swans, one black on a field of white, the other white on a field of black, the two facing each other with wings spread. He had been introduced as Ser Balon Swann, a man of the Stormlands, Oberyn knew, who now served the Lannisters.

"You say the Hound did this?"

"Yes, Prince Oberyn," Ser Balon replied. "I saw their duel. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, he killed his brother the Mountain."

"So you say."

Ser Balon's eyes grew angry at the accusation that he had lied. "There were many witnesses besides me and there is no doubt Ser Gregor died."

"Lannister witnesses," Oberyn answered in a disdainful way. "How do I know this is not some freak's skull the Imp dressed up for the part?"

"Lord Tyrion had no love for Ser Gregor, my Prince. In fact, there are rumors he made sure the two Clegane brothers met in combat."

"Why would he do that?" Ellaria asked as she gazed at the smashed skull.

"I am not certain of that, my…lady."

"My paramour asked you a question, Ser Balon," Oberyn said with an edge of menace in his tone. "Or are you a Lannister lackey who lies for the Imp?"

Ser Balon struggled to remain calm. "I am a knight of King Tommen's household, first sworn to Robert, as my liege lord in the Stormlands and later as King. I served Robert and his son Joffrey, and now King Tommen as well."

Oberyn grunted. "You serve our enemies, past and present, and they send you like a boy to deliver messages."

"I did not know King Tommen and Dorne were enemies, my Prince."

"Not yet," Oberyn said boldly, his blood up, and Arianne jumped in before this went badly.

"Forgive my uncle, Ser Balon. His is angered because he did not get to kill Ser Gregor himself."

"I understand, my Princess," Ser Balon replied.

"Do you?" Oberyn asked him sharply. "Do you know what this beast did to my sister and her children?"

"I…yes, my Prince. Long there have been rumors it was he who killed them."

"Raped my sister and killed her and her children," Oberyn said. "And who gave the order?"

"I know not…I was not at the Sack of King's Landing. I was with Robert, guarding him as he recovered from his wounds received on the Trident."

"No, no one knows who gave the order," Oberyn replied in a sarcastic tone. "So they all say, yet who does the dog Clegane serve? One master, with a lion for a sigil. But he is dead now, too, so what does it matter? Yes? It was Lord Tywin? Yes?"

"So…so I have heard."

Oberyn felt some small satisfaction from that. "And the other one, Ser Amory Lorch. Where is he now?"

"Dead."

"Dead?" Arianne said in surprise.

No, Oberyn thought, not him too. He closed his eyes and opened them again. "How did he die?"

"He was in command of Harrenhal and tried to turn it over to Stannis. But Lord Tyrion had him arrested. He tried to murder Lord Tyrion and his bodyguard killed Lorch first."

Gods…why are you so cruel to take them all from me, Oberyn thought. He stared at Swann. "Who is this bodyguard?"

"Name of Lord Bronn. He was a sellsword but now he is a lord in Lord Tyrion's service."

"Bronn…when you see him next give him my thanks and the thanks of House Martell."

"Ah…yes, my Prince."

Oberyn returned to the head in the box. "So…is it Ser Gregor? Perhaps. Tell me how he died. Every last detail."

Oberyn listened as Ser Balon described the fight. When he got to the part when Tyrion had shouted out Sansa Stark's name, Arianne stopped him.

"Why did he do this?" she asked.

"There is a rumor that the Hound loves the Stark girl."

"A dog in love," Oberyn quipped. "Finish the story."

When he was done Oberyn knew how it had happened and still felt no satisfaction. "The Hound survived his wounds?"

"He was on the mend when I left. I am sure he lives."

"Love gave him strength at the end," Oberyn replied. "Love made him strong when he should have died." _If only my love could have saved you, Elia._ "So…why did the Imp want them to fight?"

Ser Balon hesitated. "I am uncertain. There are many rumors."

"Tell me one," Oberyn said as he eyed Ser Balon. "Or should I guess? Come, you want us to believe this is Ser Gregor. You still have some convincing to do."

Ser Balon still hesitated and then spoke in a rush, as if saying it faster would make it less traitorous to reveal his lord's secrets. "There was a power struggle, between Lord Tyrion and Queen Cersei. The Hound's loyalty was uncertain. I believe Lord Tyrion wanted him dead so he could not support his sister. But now it seems the Hound is loyal to Lord Tyrion."

Arianne laughed in her pretty way. "It seems like the plot of a mummer's play."

"The only thing that matters in this story is that the bitch hates the Imp," Oberyn said with a smile and with satisfaction saw Ser Balon flinch when he said the word 'bitch' to refer to Cersei. "Let us hope they kill each other someday."

He looked for a reaction from the knight but Ser Balon said nothing. Oberyn was spoiling for a fight but Ser Balon had the sense not to rise to his challenges.

Ellaria knew his mood and sighed loudly. "My love, this must be an end to all this." She came to his side and took his arm. "It is done, my love. They are all dead. Now can you find some peace?"

"Peace? Maybe." But not for my soul, or Elia's, he thought.

Ser Balon stood sweating in his wools and steel plate armor while Oberyn stood looking at the box that rested on a table. A long silence lingered. Finally, Arianne cleared her throat. "Ser Balon, you have come far to deliver this news and we are grateful. We shall find comfortable quarters for you and your men." She called for the castellan and soon Ser Balon was gone. The sun was setting and Ellaria retired soon after as well and Oberyn promised to see her soon.

"There was also a letter, uncle," Arianne said when they were alone. "From the Imp."

"Did you read it?"

"Yes."

"What does he want now?"

"An alliance."

"Never."

Arianne was not done. "And a marriage…for Princess Myrcella to Trystane or Quentyn."

"That is for your father to decide," Oberyn said, feeling weary. He would protest against this marriage of the daughter of their enemy with Martell blood, but knowing his brother if he saw an advantage from this marriage he would make it. His bother might make the marriage even though they knew she might not be Robert's daughter, as many rumors claimed. If not then she was a bastard born of incest and had no right to any royal titles. Such a marriage would also put Tystane's life in danger.

"Give me the Imp's letter. I will go to the Water Gardens in the morning and bring it to our Prince."

She handed it over and as he made to say goodnight and leave she stopped him. "Uncle… where is my brother Quentyn?"

"At Yronwood, is he not?" Oberyn lied. He knew Quentyn and six companions had sailed east to find the dragon princess many weeks past. This was the second part of the secret pact, a marriage of Daenerys Targaryen to Quentyn Martell.

"No," she replied. "My brother has not been seen there for many weeks now." She was angry about something.

"Tell me it all."

"I…I fear Father means to set me aside in the line of succession. Once I saw a letter he was writing to Quentyn saying so much as this."

"You must have misunderstood."

She shook her head and her tone was bitter when she spoke. "I did not misunderstand. Father has always wished to put me aside."

"Never. You are his first born. You will rule as your grandmother did before your father."

"Then where is Quentyn?" she asked, her voice rising, unable to mask her anger any longer. "Why has Father been so secretive about him? What is going on?"

Oberyn wanted to tell her the truth but that was his brother's place, not his. "Your father does not take me into all his counsels…but I will ask when I see him. Not to worry. You are heir to Dorne, sweet girl. I would not have it any other way."

She smiled and was beautiful like her mother when she had smiled. "Maybe I should come to the Water Gardens as well to speak to him."

"No. Stay here, rule, learn. And listen to the men our Prince left with you to advise you."

"Old men meant to spy on me and make sure I do no mischief, don't you mean?'

"No, my niece, meant to guide you, and see you learn how to rule."

"Like my father? Waiting patiently for our revenge all these years and finally letting someone else kill our enemies for us?"

Oberyn wanted to agree with her but long ago he decided not to undermine his brother by belittling his actions, or inaction, to others, even his close family. "Your father…he wanted this revenge as well …but he has to think of Dorne, all of Dorne, not just what his heart desires. This is what you must learn if you are to rule."

"As you say, uncle." She did not sound convinced.

He stepped closer to her and spoke in almost a whisper. "Long I wanted to shove my spear in Gregor Clegane's heart, sweet Arianne. Your father wanted to help me hold this spear. You hardly knew our sister, for you were a small child when she went to King's Landing to be wed. She was kind and gentle and beautiful and did not deserve to die the way she did. Nor her children. If your father had done as I wanted, to raise all of Dorne and bring down Robert Baratheon and all his monsters, we more than likely would have lost. I did not see that in my grief. Your father did. And so we are here, still waiting for vengeance…and now it is seemingly delivered, nice and neat. But know this…as long as there is a Lannister alive, my desire for vengeance will not be quenched."

She smiled. "I will help you any way I can."

He kissed her forehead. "Good. Now think no more of what your brother is doing and know that your father is wise and has his reasons for everything he does."

She meant to say more but then just nodded and after a short time they said their good nights.

That night Oberyn took Ellaria four times and still felt no satisfaction. She marveled at his prowess, a man of his forty-three years still as virile as an eighteen year old. He got up after the last time, and as she rested he drank some wine while sitting on the balcony and overlooking Sunspear in the moonlight. It was cooler at night now, and he knew the maesters were right, that winter was coming, the snows coming to the North for certain and maybe even as far as King's Landing. But Dorne had never known winter or snows except in the mountain passes. No, Oberyn corrected himself, they had known winter, eight thousand years ago, so the legends say, when even the desert sands were covered in snow. For a generation after the snows melted all of Dorne bloomed, the maesters said, until the weather patterns made the land a desert again.

In the morning at breakfast Ser Balon Swann sat with them as was fitting for a knight and a guest. Oberyn was more civil to him now and picked his brain for all the news of the north and of the war between Stannis and the Lannisters. When Ser Balon got to the rumors of the Others, Oberyn questioned him at length.

"They are just rumors, my Prince," Ser Balon told him as he cut open a blood orange on his plate. "Supposedly Lord Tyrion got a letter from the old maester at Castle Black, saying they were being attacked by the Others and an army of wights. But I never saw the letter."

"The old maester is Aemon Targaryen," Oberyn informed Ser Balon. Oberyn had studied at the Citadel in Oldtown for a while, learning mainly about poisons and the way the human body worked, more so to know how to kill than heal. He grew bored after a while and never earned more than a few links in a maesters chains before he left. But while there he heard of this old maester at the Wall, spoken of in awe. "He is the oldest man in all of Westeros," he continued to explain to Ser Balon. "Maybe even the world. And one of the wisest. He spent most of his life at the Wall. If he says the Others are attacking, we must believe him."

After breakfast Oberyn informed Ellaria and his niece that there was no time to lose, he must go to his brother at once, without delay. He kissed Ellaria goodbye and told her to catch up as fast as she could and then he took his fastest steed and left the city by himself. It was only a few leagues to the Water Gardens, a retreat built on the seashore ages ago for a queen by a king who had loved her dearly. As Oberyn rode, he thought on what he must tell his brother, what he must do to convince him to act, and act now before it was too late.

As he expected, Doran was by the water pools that dotted the main palace near the sea, watching the children play in the water, as Oberyn and Elia and many others had done when they had been children many years ago. With his brother was Areo Hotah, his bodyguard and captain of guards, carried his long axe that he was rumored to sleep with. Hotah had come from the Free City of Norvos as a guard when Doran's wife Mellario had come to Westeros and he had remained behind when she returned to her homelands after she and Doran had a falling out. Oberyn knew part of the reason she had left was because of how Doran had used their children in his games of politics like so many pieces in a game of cyvasse.

Hotah was tall and broad, but of an age almost equal to Doran, so his beard was flecked with grey and his hair was going grey as well. Oberyn had never liked the man, who was of few words and always treated all who were not the Prince as if they were assassins, including his close family, which irked Oberyn to no end. When Hotah saw Oberyn approaching the entrance to the patio where his brother sat in his wheeled chair the captain's long axe came up and blocked the door.

"The Prince wishes not to be disturbed," Areo Hotah said, his voice still clouded with an accent even after almost thirty years in Dorne.

"The Prince is my brother and I have urgent news," Oberyn said through clenched teeth. More than once he wanted to take this fool's head off for presuming to tell him what to do, but stayed his hand as he knew his brother would take ill of it, especially here, which was so peaceful and tranquil and where no blood had ever been spilled except the blood red juices of the oranges that fell as they ripened on the trees around the patio.

"My brother is always welcome," Prince Doran Martell said in his soft voice from his chair.

At once the axe came up and Oberyn entered with a nasty look to Areo, who ignored him as usual. With swift strides Oberyn reached his brother's side. Doran was ten years older than him but looked twice that, aged as he was, and on his face Oberyn could see the constant pain he dealt with. His lower body was covered in a blanket so Oberyn could not see the hideously swollen knees and toes, but the knuckles on his hands were there to see, looking more like fat grapes than the hand of a prince, the cause the effects of the gout which was slowly destroying his body. The maesters could do nothing for him except give him milk of the poppy to ease his pain.

"My Prince," Oberyn said formally, and then he bent to one knee and his tone softened. "My brother…he is dead…at long last, our sister can rest in peace."

Prince Doran Martell let out a long sigh. "I have heard a knight arrived at Sunspear, from the Lannisters. I have heard he brought a head. Is it truly Gregor Clegane?"

Oberyn stood. "So the knight said. It was a skull, very large, but crushed…but the knight sounds convincing. And the Imp writes again asking for an alliance. If Clegane still lived, we would soon know it. A man like that cannot hide forever. The Imp would be branded a liar and knows we would never treat with him or his."

"Yes, all you say sounds true," his brother replied. "How did he die?"

Oberyn explained as Doran silently listened. "To kill one's own brother," Doran said in a sad tone. "How terrible." He was quiet for a moment and then spoke again. "The letter from Lord Tyrion. You brought it?"

Oberyn handed it to him and with a wince of pain Doran opened it and read. "He still asks for one of my sons for his niece," he said when finished.

"He does."

"Quentyn is already promised but Trystane is not."

"Arianne is growing suspicious about Quentyn's absence," Oberyn told his brother. "She suspects you want to remove her from her birthright."

"What did you tell her?"

"That her fears were groundless. Nothing more."

"Good."

"Perhaps it is time we told her the truth, brother."

"No," Doran replied. "She has little control of her tongue. This secret must not be known…yet. Not until Quentyn returns with his bride and her dragons."

"If he returns. If he finds her. If he marries her. There are too many 'ifs', brother."

"Aren't there always?"

"Yes. But we cannot make plans based on so many uncertainties," Oberyn said with vigor. "It has been many weeks since Quentyn left. We should have had some word."

"Yes. We should have. Still…we must be patient. Perhaps I should write to Lord Tyrion and tell him I am considering his proposal."

Oberyn stiffened and his face grew dark. "You would let our blood marry a Lannister?"

"She is a Baratheon."

"She is no Baratheon. She is a bastard."

"You say that as if it is a bad thing, my brother, yet you have eight of your own. Four of them swim out there as we speak."

Oberyn looked to the pools and it was hard to tell his own four daughters from the rest of the naked children. Finally the oldest, Elia, named for her dead aunt, saw him, waved and pointed to him and the other children began to look that way. He went down to them and spoke for a few minutes and told them their mother was coming and they would speak later after he and their uncle had words.

"My daughters are not heir to the Iron Throne," Oberyn reminded his brother when he returned to the patio. "If Trystane marries the girl, then Stannis Baratheon will want his head as well."

"True. You recommend we refuse the offer?"

"Must you ask?" Oberyn said in exasperation. "The Lannisters killed our sister. Lord Tywin is dead, the Mountain is dead, so is Amory Lorch, but…"

"Lorch as well?" Doran said in surprise. "How?"

"Ser Balon claims he tried to kill to Imp at Harrenhal and the Imp's bodyguard killed him first."

Doran sighed heavily and closed his eyes. For a long moment he did not speak. Finally his lifted his head and even smiled slightly. "Yes, mayhaps our sister can rest easier now."

"But not I," Oberyn replied. "Not us." There was bitterness in his voice.

"I know you wanted to kill them all by your own hand, my brother, but they are still dead."

"Dead, yes…but I still feel empty inside." The last was said in heavy tone he could not help.

"As do I."

They were silent for a long moment, looking out at the children splashing in the waters. Oberyn walked to the edge of the patio.

"Do you remember Elia and I playing in there?" he asked.

"How could I forget? I was almost twenty and you were still so young."

"Why did our mother let her marry Rhaegar?"

"She could not refuse such an offer."

"No, I suppose not," Oberyn replied. "Did he ever love her?"

"I know not. Did he love the Stark girl?"

"He must have. He tore the kingdoms apart for her."

A servant arrived with drinks and fruit for them and some flat bread and cheese. Oberyn took a glass of lemon water and ate some fruit while his brother nibbled on some cheese as they talked more. Oberyn explained about the news from the north and about the Others.

"This is certain?" Doran asked, suddenly more alert and attentive.

"Nothing is certain, but Maester Aemon would know the truth of this."

"What are the northern lords doing about this?"

"Swann said that they had news that Ned Stark had taken a large force to the Wall to help the Night's Watch. The Imp was moving to make peace with Stannis, a peace Stannis first proposed it seems. Stannis' army was moving to the Twins the last Swann heard before he left."

"Our news is old and it seems the hour is late."

Oberyn looked at him steadily. "Yes. The hour is very late…and here we sit…again. You kept me from seeking vengeance, my brother. You kept us out of the wars that are tearing the land apart."

Doran looked out at the children. "These wars are not our concern. We have no stake in them as long as they stayed away from our borders. We could not support Lannister or Baratheon or Stark, as you know. Better to let these enemies of ours kill each other. As for those who had wrong us, you must know how long I have wanted to send you north to seek our vengeance."

"Then why didn't you?" Oberyn asked with barely suppressed rage.

"Look at them," Doran said, nodding to the children. "What do they know of war and death, of life and love? Little or none."

Oberyn knew what he meant and why he said it. But he knew one more thing. "If the Others are real they will care not for their innocence. They will care not for any alliances, or marriages, or who is the rightful king. They will care for nothing!"

When he finished his voice was loud and full of anger. From his post at the door Hotah had heard it all and was staring at him intently, ready to spring forth, as if Oberyn would ever dare strike his brother.

"No….they care not," Doran answered. "They are not even men, are they?"

"I…I know not. Ice demons the legends say, with wights, dead men raised again."

"Where are they now?"

"At the Wall, so Ser Balon believes. But this news is old."

"The Wall has never fallen," Doran said.

"Never."

Doran said nothing and Oberyn did not as well. He waited for his brother to make a decision, and that was something that never came quickly. Oberyn knew what he would say. I need time to think, I need to weigh this carefully, I need to ponder all the implications, I need to…

"It is time for Dorne to join the fight," was what he finally said and Oberyn would have picked him up in joy if his brother could have stood the pain.

Oberyn went to one knee again. "Command me, my brother, my Prince. Give me the men and I will go forth and do as you command."

"Yes, it is time. Go up the Boneway and into the Stormlands," Doran commanded his younger brother. "Make common cause with all you meet but make no alliances…nor enemies. Make a common cause to fight the Others, nothing more."

"It is a long way to the Wall."

"Yes, but if we wait until they are at the borders of Dorne then it will be too late."

"I understand. How many men shall I take?"

"You will go forth with an advance guard to assess the situation. A thousand men, no less or more. Learn all you can. Bring ravens and send back reports often. Already at Yronwood Lord Anders has raised almost ten thousand men to protect our borders. I will raise the rest to follow you once we know more of the situation."

"The rest…how many?"

"All. I shall raise all of Dorne, brother."

"All?"

"Yes. Every man that can hold a spear. Some will go forth with you while others will hold the mountain passes for defense. Return to Sunspear, and have the maesters send ravens to all the great houses of Dorne. Command the lords to begin to raise the men and supplies we will need. I shall follow you to Sunspear, but do not delay. Tell the maesters these are my commands."

"I will leave at once."

"As you wish."

Oberyn meant to turn and leave but then realized he might not ever see his brother again or at least for a long time. There was no question that Doran could go with them. He could barely stand the short journey to Sunspear these days. But one question had not been asked or answered.

"Who will have the command?" Oberyn asked.

"You will. A letter…you must have a letter with my desires known so there is no… difficulty."

Difficulty of the sort Oberyn had caused in the past, his brother did not say. Some of the great lords of Dorne had no love for Oberyn, as over the years his brash temperament and lustfulness had brought him into conflict with more than one great house of Dorne.

Parchment and ink were brought and the letter composed and signed and sealed, giving Oberyn the command.

"The command is yours," Doran told him. "But heed the advice of our lords and captains. I know you once led a company of men in the Disputed Lands wars, but that was many years ago, and now you will lead a much greater host. You have won many battles in the bedroom and in single combat, brother, but you and I both know your temperament is not well suited to direct masses of men in battle."

Oberyn would have taken offense at the comment from any other, but his brother knew him too well and did not say it to insult, but to advise. "I will do as you say. I will not fail Dorne."

"Westeros, brother. This is a battle for all Westeros."

"As you say. Goodbye, brother. I hope to see you here again when the battles are won."

"As do I. Farewell."

Oberyn bent and kissed his brother's brow and then left before he could change his mind.

As he strode out of the main entrance Ellaria and her escort arrived on horseback. After he greeted her with a kiss he quickly told her the news.

"Is the danger so great?" she asked with worry in her eyes.

"It would seem so. Do not fear my love. I shall whip these ice demons and be back to make love to you until we are both old and grey."

He meant to laugh but the look in her eyes told him she was afraid. "Oberyn…this is not some man who insulted you or some jealous husband."

"I know," he said quietly.

"Come," she told him. "You have time to spend a few moments to say goodbye to your daughters."

"I have already done so."

"Come, you will do so again."

It was hard to do so, and even harder to say goodbye to their mother, and his brother once more, but a half hour later he was on the road to Sunspear and by late afternoon he was deep in conference with the maesters and other advisers. The word had gone out – Dorne was marching north. Many cheered when they heard the news, and others wept, but all were surprised to hear that the enemy was not the Lannisters or the Baratheons but the demons of legend.

His eldest daughters had heard as well and came to seek him out. Obara was the first to arrive at the palace, arriving at night, and she found him in his rooms preparing his clothing and weapons for the journey. He was standing by a cabinet where he kept many vials and bottles of some of the most dangerous poisons in the world.

"Still using poisons to deal with your foes, Father?" said a voice from the doorway and she was there, tall and dark as her mother had been, and of so little beauty it made Oberyn often wonder how drunk he must have been to bed her ugly Oldtown whore of a mother. Physically she hardly resembled him, but she had enough of him in her nature so that he did not doubt she was his daughter. She more than made up for her lack of grace and beauty for martial spirit, preferring the spear and the whip as weapons. She was his eldest, born almost twenty-eight years past when Oberyn was not yet a man. He never knew she was even alive for many years until he heard of her and came to Oldtown to claim her as his own. The mother was dead now, but Obara had held little love for her, her drinking making the life of the young girl one long misery until her father had taken her away. Obara still harbored strong resentment for Oldtown, and often claimed she wished the gods would burn it the ground.

"I am not killing men this time," Oberyn told his eldest as he closed the poison cabinet, after taking two glass vials from it, just in case some man actually needed to be dealt with. "Ice demons I seek, and the maesters say only fire will kill them."

"Then we had best bring plenty of oil and torches," Obara replied to her father as she crossed the room and poured herself some wine from a decanter on a side board. She drank and looked at him. "I saw the head. Is it really him?"

"So the Imp would have me believe," Oberyn replied while he placed the two glass vials in a small wooden box lined in soft cotton and then closed the lid and locked it.

"You are not convinced?"

"When I hear the story from one hundred people, then maybe I will be convinced. When I see the Imp and the Hound and they tell me the story and I can look in their eyes and see if they are lying or not, maybe I will be convinced. But I will still not be satisfied. Amory Lorch and Tywin Lannister are dead now, too, so mayhaps my desire for revenge while never be satisfied."

"Then let us kill the Imp and the Kingslayer and the bitch Cersei as well," his daughter growled in anger. "Let us kill every Lannister in the world!"

He grinned. She had always been fiery of temper. "We may get that chance. But first we have other enemies."

"If they are real and there is a fight I am coming."

"I will not stop you, but I have no time to look out for you."

She laughed. "You have never looked out for me."

He stood in front of her and his face and tone grew serious. "Daughter, this is no duel or skirmish we go to, no lover's quarrel or an insult to avenge. It is all out war, and the enemies are not men. If you come, it may mean your death."

Her eyes turned hard and he saw the fury there. "If I don't come, I will die some other day, when all of my family is dead and Dorne is overrun."

"So it may be. Then be ready to ride in the morning."

"My sisters will come as well."

"Are they here?"

"Not yet. Lady Nym may arrive by morning. Tyene sooner. Sarella is still in Oldtown."

"I have no time to send her a raven. You do it. Tell her to join us."

"And who do I address this raven to? You never told us what name she is going by."

Oberyn grinned. "Alleras is her name there, and she is passing as a man."

Obara shook her head in wonder. "And what fool game is she up to?"

"Your uncle's fool game, not mine. He asked her to go there and keep an eye on the grey men, to see what they planned if she could, and to forge her chain as well. Women are not permitted to become maesters, but as a man she can learn many things that could benefit us."

"Why not let her stay and finish this work?"

"Because the hour is late and her bow we need for other things. Tell her to ride for the exit of the Boneway and wait for us in the ruins of Summerhall."

"As you command. Father," Obara said and left to write the letter.

His second daughter Nymeria, called Lady Nym, and his third daughter Tyene were waiting for him at breakfast. Obara had already eaten and was readying their horses. Nym was tall and beautiful with raven black hair in a long braid. She was as deadly with knives as her older sister was with a spear and whip. Her mother was a noblewoman Oberyn had laid with in Volantis when he had been forced to flee Dorne after he had killed a Dornish nobleman in a duel when he was hardly sixteen years old. Nym had broken many a man's heart with her numerous love affairs.

Tyene was the opposite of her older sisters. She was shorter and was blond and blue eyed to boot, her mother being a voluptuous speta that Oberyn had seduced in a mad week long bout of lust and passion. The girl was pious and sweet to all, but was deadly in her own way, following in her father's footsteps by favoring the use of poisons. All of his eldest daughters had killed, he knew, mostly when they had been insulted in some way or another. The Sand Snakes they were called throughout Dorne, and many feared them. No one had offered any sons for their marriage, but if they had Oberyn was certain his daughters would refuse any such offer. They were not meant to be put under the thumb of any man.

No son's had been offered also because his daughters were bastards. In Dorne bastards were not shunted aside or looked on with shame yet no nobleman had ever suggested a match for the Red Viper's daughters with their sons. The Dornish nobles all claimed that being a bastard did not matter but in their hearts they were more alike with those in the other Seven Kingdoms than they cared to admit. Once at a court function some drunken fool of a lord had told Oberyn he should wed his daughters to someone's bastard sons and the man was lucky Prince Doran had been there to calm Oberyn's rage. Mayhaps his younger daughters would have the chance to be wed some day. If…there were so many 'ifs' now he dared not count.

"I hear we are marching to war, Father," Nym said when Oberyn came into the dining room. Nym and Tyene were already breaking their fast with Arianne, and all three stood when Oberyn entered. He kissed each in turn on the cheek and took his seat at the right side of Arianne, who as Princess and heir sat at the head of the table.

"Yes, to war we go," Oberyn replied as he sat. He started to reach for the wine but decided he needed a clear head this day and poured some lemon water instead. He then filled his plate with flat bread, dates, olives, goat cheese, small fried fish, and some fiery peppers he loved so well. "If you wish to come I will not stop you, but know that I have no time to play father to you. I will be in command. You may join me on the road but not in council. You follow my orders without question."

Tyene smiled sweetly. "Of course, Father."

Nym had more of a scowl on. "I hear we are going to fight ice demons, and not the Lannisters or Baratheons."

"For now, yes," Oberyn told them. "And we may even have to make a common cause with the Lannisters and Baratheons."

Nym's eyes turned angry. "That sounds like my uncle's orders, not yours."

Oberyn stared at her. "We are commanded to help defend Westeros and defeat the Others. And if we must make some temporary alliances we will do so. You and your sisters will obey my orders or you will have no part in this."

"As you command, Father," Lady Nym replied. "But these Lannisters are trying to fool us. That head is a lie."

Arianne spoke up. "Ser Balon Swann gave his word as a knight that it was Ser Gregor's head."

Nym laughed. "Sweet cousin, is your heart already set on the brave Ser Balon?"

Arianne flushed, her cheeks having a reddish hue. "How dare you! I have no such thoughts!"

Tyene smiled at Arianne. "And why not? If you don't want him, perhaps I will have a look at this knight who causes you to blush so."

"Be my guest, dear cousin," Arianne replied. "As for Ser Gregor's head I am merely saying that the head seems authentic and perhaps we should give Ser Balon the benefit of the doubt. And why would the Imp try to fool us when he so desperately wants one of my brothers to marry Princess Myrcella?"

"That will never happen," Lady Nym said and she looked to her father for reassurances.

"Prince Doran is considering it," Oberyn told them. "But has made no decision as yet."

"Of course not," said Tyene. "Our uncle must think of all the ways this could affect us. Perhaps by the time he decides the war will be over."

Oberyn glared at her. "Keep such thoughts to yourself. My brother is slow to decide, but he is your Prince and you insult him needlessly."

Tyene bowed her head and seemed contrite. "Forgive me, Father. I shall go to the sept and pray for your and Prince Doran's forgiveness."

"We have no time for that," Oberyn said in irritation. "Best you two go help your sister see to your preparations. We ride within the hour." They stood and left without complaint. After his two daughters were gone, Oberyn looked to Arianne. "Tell Ser Balon and his men they will come as well."

Arianne looked surprised "But…they just got here."

"Yes, and I don't want them to linger. Or for you to become infatuated with this knight."

"I am not infatuated!" she answered but her flush cheeks once more told the real truth.

"Is that so?"

"And what is wrong with me having a tryst?" she answered him boldly. "You never scolded your daughters when they jumped from bed to bed and caused more than one scandal in Dorne."

"They are not the heir to Dorne," he reminded her. "Sweet niece, I know you are a woman and I do not wish you to remain a maid, but you must be careful who you bed and who knows you are doing so."

"I understand," she said, but her eyes were angry. "The next time you and my father talk about who I am sleeping with remind him I will not remain chaste while he dithers over picking a husband for me."

"He will decide soon, I am certain."

"I am certain my father never decided anything soon."

Oberyn was tiring of her petulance. "I have no time for this."

He stood and meant to leave then when Arianne asked him what he hoped she would not ask. "Uncle…where is Quentyn?"

He grunted. "Still you do not trust me or your father?"

"I am only concerned. I just…"

"Your father will come here today or tomorrow. Then you may ask him. He may tell you or not…but know that things are happening which must be kept secret and for good reasons. If you wish to rule Dorne someday you must remember that secrets are secrets for good reasons, my niece."

She seemed abashed. "Yes, uncle," was all she said, her eyes cast down.

He had no time for her foolish desires or games. "Now, I must depart. Be well, my Princess."

She smiled for him and it seemed forced. "You as well, uncle. Send word as often as you can."

"I will." He kissed her once on the cheek and then he left her.

Oberyn and his three eldest daughters, Ser Balon and his men, plus one thousand picked men and their supply wagons all left Sunspear to the cheers of thousands in the streets. North they went, across the hard lands of Dorne, taking three days to reach the coast of the Sea of Dorne and the small yet pretty town of Ghost Hill on its shores. They had moved from small village to small village, built where wells had reached sweet water under the dry land, and made it fertile enough to grow some crops and plant date trees and grape vineyards. At each place they were cheered by all and gradually Oberyn's group grew larger as men could not wait for commands to come from Sunspear and spontaneously put on armor and picked up sword and spear and joined his march. Some were minor lords, others were knights, and many were simple soldiers or men who decided they could not be left behind. By the time they reached the old fortress of Tor on the coastline he had almost two thousand men and five days later at the great fortress and town of Yronwood, at the entrance to the Boneway road, Oberyn had almost four thousand men with him.

Yronwood was not Oberyn Martell's favorite place in Dorne, nor was he welcome with open arms here. His reputation as a fierce warrior and a deceitful user of poisons had begun here more than twenty-five years ago. Oberyn had taken the paramour of Lord Edgar Yronwood to bed and had been discovered. The lord had challenged him to a duel, which was meant to be only till one or the other received a cut, since it would not do for the lord to kill the prince or for Oberyn to kill a member of a great house of Dorne. Yet once the cuts had been received and honor satisfied, Lord Edgar's wound would not heal. It festered and in days he was dead. More than one person whispered that Oberyn had used poison and they had been right. Oberyn had no intention of killing him at first, but in the build up to the duel, Lord Edgar had been heard insulting Oberyn and his family name, which caused Oberyn to decide to settle matters in his own special way.

From this one brash act came many consequences. Oberyn was forced into exile by his older brother, who had just taken up the reins of power less than a year past when their mother had die. Oberyn had wanted to fight them all but Doran forbade it and Oberyn relented and took ship to Volantis, where he later met Nym's mother. In order to make peace with House Yronwood, Doran agreed to have his eldest son Quentyn fostered there when he came of age. This in turn led to a long simmering resentment of Doran's wife of her husband's actions which led years later to her deciding to return to her home city of Norvos.

The history of House Martell and House Yronwood caused further tensions, for in the distant past before Nymeria sailed her ten thousand ships to Dorne and House Martell joined her, House Yronwood had ruled Dorne, and they had never forgotten their lost power. Now the grandson of the man Oberyn had killed was lord of House Yronwood.

Lord Anders Yronwood was younger by five or more years than Oberyn. He was also tall and blond of hair and blue of eye, like many of the Dornish people who lived near the mountain passes, their blood mixing with those to the north of them over the ages. Lord Anders greeted Oberyn at the main gates of the great castle that guarded the Boneway entrance cordially, if somewhat stiffly.

"Prince Oberyn, welcome to Yronwood," Lord Anders said.

Oberyn climbed off his horse and grinned. "Come, why so polite, Lord Anders? I know you hate me."

Lord Anders smile fell from his face, as did the smiles of those who had accompanied him. "My opinion of you does not prevent me from being civil in this time of danger, Prince Oberyn. I have received a raven from Prince Doran. We…"

"We will discuss all this after I have bathed, eaten, and rested."

Lord Anders stiffened and his face turned into a scowl. "You may be a Prince of Dorne but this is still my home."

"Of course," Oberyn said in a casual manner. "Forgive me, Lord Anders. I request the hospitality of Yronwood for my party."

"It is yours," Lord Anders replied formally and more than one angry eye followed Prince Oberyn and his daughters as they entered the great castle.

Later Oberyn and Lord Anders had time to talk in private in the lord's solar over many matters, including the fate of Quentyn, but Lord Anders had no word of what happened to his party. He worried on this, for he had grown fond of Quentyn over the years he had been fostered there. He also worried because his son Cletus was one of Quentyn's traveling companions.

"I am thinking of sending a ship to try to track them," Lord Anders told Oberyn. "But the mission is supposed to be secret and I fear to rouse suspicions. Already tongues are wagging here, with many wondering where Quentyn and the rest went."

Oberyn knew Lord Anders knew what Quentyn and the others were up to. "What story have you given?"

"That they are touring the great houses of Dorne."

"That will do for now," Oberyn said. "Let us discuss what we shall do about the dangers coming from the north. I will go up the Boneway, with the men I have plus the host you have raised as well."

"My host numbers almost ten thousand," Lord Anders told him. "Some here, more in the pass, many more at the far entrance near Summerhall."

"Good. I will be in command of all our forces."

Lord Anders face grew dark. "No, that will not do. You have little battle experience except with duels. I am sure poison will not work on these ice demons."

Oberyn laughed and decided not to rise to the bait offered. "All true, for the most part. I have some battle experience, however. In my youth I fought with the Second Sons for a while and raised a company of sellswords to fight in the Disputed Lands many years past. Though it was not for long, we did see battle and acquitted ourselves quite well. Besides, my brother, your Prince, gave me the command." Oberyn produced his letter and gave it to Lord Anders. The Lord of Yronwood read it with growing disgust and then handed back.

"So…you are to command," he reluctantly agreed. "Then what are your orders…my Prince?"

Oberyn knew it took a lot for him to say that. "We march north, into the Stormlands, and then farther on once we know more of what is happening in the north. Information we need. What have you heard so far?"

"Some news has reached us," Lord Anders told him. He stood from the table and walked to a wall where a large map of Westeros was sewed into a large tapestry colored green and brown and blue. "We have heard rumors that Stannis and Tyrion Lannister had joined forces here at the Twins and are preparing to meet the Others."

Oberyn was stunned at this news. "At…the Twins? But…the Wall. Stark led…"

"The Wall has fallen," Lord Anders told him bluntly.

"The Wall…fallen," Oberyn said, trying to accept it but finding it difficult. "I had heard there was a battle there, but not this news. How?"

"How and when the Wall fell we know not, but fall it did, at Castle Black. We have this news from more than one source. I have already written to Prince Doran, but apparently you were already on the road when I sent it. The first of this news we received from a merchant crew from a ship that docked here. It had set sail from Duskendale a few weeks past. A second source of news was a wine trader and his men from the Stormlands. They came through the Boneway pass with a caravan of pack mules and horse-drawn wagons. They stayed here two days before returning after we sold them some wine and other goods. Some of them said Winterfell is surrounded, that it is not, that Stark is dead, that he is alive, that he is fleeing south with all his people. The one thing they did know for certain is that Stannis and the Lannisters are making peace, for the nonce."

"Yes, we have heard about this peace the Lannisters and Baratheons are making," Oberyn commented. "But if this is true about the Wall and the North being invaded, then we must push on, and join forces with whoever is fighting the Others."

"You would have Dorne make alliances with our enemies?"

It did not surprise Oberyn that Lord Anders called them 'our' enemies. All of Dorne had lost men in Robert's Rebellion and more than one house desired some kind of vengeance.

"Until the Others are defeated, yes," Oberyn answered. "And not alliances. A common cause, my brother called it, and so shall we." Oberyn stared at the map wondering where to make a stand. "The Twins…they cannot stand there. The Others can flow past there like a river."

"Yes, so I thought as well."

Oberyn's eye kept going back to the blue line that showed where the Trident was. "The Trident…there we can make a stand."

"If we are swift, perhaps. But it will take almost a month of hard marching to reach the Trident."

"By sea…"

"We don't have enough ships and the winter storms may kill us before the Others get the chance. Winter has come to the North, Prince Oberyn. It will soon march to the South as well."

"Late, we are so late," Oberyn lamented. "We must march on the morrow. As many men and as much food as we can carry."

"The orders are already given."

The next day they left, with Lord Anders Yronwood and a great many knights leading the vanguard, with Oberyn and his daughters and many Martell knights and Ser Balon Swann near the front of the host as well. Behind them came a long line of marching men-at-arms, and hundreds of wagons filled with the supplies they needed. Almost 15,000 men made up the host and more they picked up in the mountain passes and on the far side. More would come from Dorne, converging on the Boneway and then marching north through the great mountain pass.

The Boneway was one of the fabled roads of Westeros, built through the great mountain range that separated Dorne from the Reach and the Stormlands. The road went up and over passes and down into valleys through the range called the Red Mountains and it emerged on the far end near the once great Targaryen castle called Summerhall. The road was the scene of many battles through its long history, as Dorne and the Stormlands fought their many wars.

The march took ten days, with the cold mountain air and morning frosts causing the men of Dorne to shiver despite wearing heavier clothing than they were used to in their hot desert lands. Up north it would be colder still. Better clothing we should have brought, Oberyn thought and he cursed his stupidity. Winter has come and we will freeze before we see an Other. At the first chance he sent a raven back to Yronwood requested supplies of heavier clothing be sent through the mountain pass. By the fifth day some sickness was reported and by the time they came down to the warmer lands by Summerhall, many men had hacking coughs and were running fevers. Over a dozen had already died.

They needed to rest and take stock. The Targaryen castle of Summerhall had been built in a beautiful valley with many streams flowing through it from the mountains. It had been built as a fortress to guard the Boneway's north entrance but in time it became a retreat for the Targaryens, a place to escape the stench and intrigues of King's Landing. The surrounding land was mostly farmlands, and at first the people feared this great host of Dornishmen but when they learned they were marching north to fight the Others the people cheered them and even gave some of their precious stores of food and drink to the army.

They camped that night near the ruins of Summerhall. It was a total ruin, blackened and still smelling of ash decades after it had burnt, all that remained standing were a few walls and a few columns sticking up out of a waste of a broken tumble of blackened stone and scorched wooden beams. The great fire had been an accident, so the stories said. But more than one rumor said that King Aegon the Fifth had tried to hatch some old dragon eggs using wildfire and the fire got out of control. The King, his son the heir, and many others died that day. Oberyn knew that Prince Rhaegar used to come here to lament the loss of the castle and the many members of his family that had died in its conflagration. Oberyn had been here before and thought it nothing more than a monument to Targaryen stupidity.

They stayed for two days, needing to rest the men and horses, and also Oberyn hoped his fourth daughter Sarella would join them but she did not appear. But someone did appear, and it was not who Oberyn was looking for.

On the morning of the third day as they were preparing to break camp and start to march, from the west over a hill came a rider, with the golden rose sigil of the Tyrells on his surcoat. He swiftly turned around and rode away. Oberyn and his daughters mounted up and rode to the top of the hill. On the far side they got a shock, seeing a large Tyrell host of foot soldiers and cavalry moving on a narrow road through farmer's fields, coming toward them. Oberyn shouted orders and Lord Anders and the other commanders got the men moving to battle positions on the bottom of the long hillside. The Tyrell host formed lines as well in the fields below and then all was silent.

"Come, let us see what is what," Oberyn said and he asked Lord Anders and Ser Balon to follow him to where a narrow dirt road cut through the hills toward Summerhall. His Sand Snakes wanted to come as well but he ordered them to remain behind and they reluctantly obeyed. Meanwhile, a small party on horseback came out of the Tyrell host. They met in the middle of the road.

When Oberyn saw who their leader was he smiled. "Willas," he said. "It has been too long."

Willas Tyrell was a comely man, of medium height and somewhat thin, with a short spade shaped beard and short brown hair. He had less of the good looks his younger brother Ser Loras had, and none of his arrogance. He was noted by many as the most intelligent and genial of the Tyrell siblings and many were glad he was heir to Highgarden. Yet he was also looked at with pity by some, for he had a lame right leg, and needed a cane to walk and he could barely sit a horse without having special straps to hold him in the saddle. Oberyn Martell was responsible for the lame leg, having unseated the younger man in a joust many years ago. When Willas had fallen his leg had caught in the stirrup and his horse had fallen with him, crushing his leg. The maesters had saved the leg, but he could never walk or ride properly again.

All of the Reach blamed Oberyn, all but Willas. It had been a fair contest, with no treachery, and it was not an unheard of accident in such tourneys. Years later when they had become good friends Willas admitted he had no desire to ride in that tournament but his father had pushed him to do so. "I was too inexperienced," he told Oberyn while they were hawking in the Dornish Marches one day. "But my father wanted me to be a champion, so I rode." Still, Oberyn Martell was the least loved man in the Reach, and his reputation as a ruthless man was further enhance.

"Prince Oberyn," said Willas with a smile as he and his escort rode closer. "I had not thought to see you here."

"Nor I you. We ride to war."

The smile left Willas Tyrell's face. "Indeed. And who against?"

"The Others. Who else is there?"

Now Willas looked surprised. "You have not heard?"

"Heard? What is there to hear? The Others have broken through the Wall. We are going to find this war and stop them from overrunning Westeros." Oberyn said it in his calm way, his tone full of confidence and a hint of distain for his enemies.

"They have already been stopped," Willas replied. "For the nonce, at least. We just received news of a great battle on the Trident. Lord Stannis Baratheon, Lord Tyrion Lannister, and my father led a great host in defending the river line. The knights of the Vale joined them as well."

Oberyn could not help but feel some disappointment. "Then they are defeated?"

Willas shook his head. "No, not yet. Merely checked it seems. But my news is more than ten days old, so I know not the current situation."

Oberyn grinned. "Then we will ride together, to find this war and defeat theses demons once and for all."

Willas' face blanched. "I do not ride north. I ride for Storm's End."

Now Oberyn was concerned and wondered if some fresh war between the Reach and the Stormlands was brewing, but Ser Balon spoke before he could. His demeanor and tone were cold. "What is a Tyrell host doing marching to Storm's End?"

"I did not get your name, ser," Willas asked and there was no warmth in his voice either.

"Ser Balon Swann of Stonehelm."

"I am not riding against your people or Storm's End, Ser Balon," Willas explained, a bit more friendly. "I am riding to help save them."

"Save them?" Oberyn asked. "From who?"

Willas looked steadily at Oberyn. "From your nephew it seems, Prince Oberyn."

Now Oberyn was truly puzzled. "My nephew? I have only two nephews and neither is attacking Storm's End at the moment."

"It seems you have a third nephew, or at least he is calling himself that."

Oberyn grew irritated. "Speak plainly, Willas. What in seven hells is going on at Storm's End?"

"I am surprised you have not heard," Willas Tyrell answered. "But maybe not so surprised. Our news came in a round about fashion, from the letter I received from my father who is on the Trident. Apparently a large host landed by sea a few weeks back near Cape Wrath. They took Griffin's Roost and now lay siege to Storm's End. This host has the Golden Company, plus a large number of siege engines and elephants, plus many lords of the Stormlands now supporting them. They fight under a banner with three red dragons on a black field."

Oberyn felt his breath catch and chest get tight. "That's the old Targaryen banner."

"Quite so," Willas replied. "Their leader says he is your nephew, Prince Oberyn. He is claming he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia of Dorne. He is calling himself Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of his Name. And he means to conquer all of Westeros."

Oberyn was too stunned to reply for a moment and then found his voice. "Gods, no…he died, years ago. How can that be?"

"I know not. But I have been commanded to drive him out of Westeros."

"Commanded by whom?" Lord Anders asked.

"The alliance that now faces the Others. I received a raven letter ten days past, signed and sealed by my father, with the seals of Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lord Tyrion Lannister affixed as well. I raised these men and plan to move on Storm's End or wherever the pretender may be."

"Pretender?" Oberyn said in wonder. "But…what if he is not a pretender?" Could it be? Could Aegon still be alive? It was impossible. He had died at King's Landing. Oberyn has seen his head smashed in. Had seen his bones…had seen some bones…someone's bones. Could they have been another baby and not Aegon?

"My orders remain the same, pretender or not, Prince Oberyn. The question is now, what will you do?"

Oberyn was too surprised by this news to speak for a moment. Oberyn Martell was no great strategist and had but little experience of large scale warfare. But he knew that in a duel or on the battlefield you never let a man get behind you or you were soon dead. He couldn't leave behind a force that might attack them in the back when the Others attacked them from the front. But if it was truly Aegon, he could not attack him, his own blood, his sister's son. Elia's son. Willas was going there to sort this out, and he would attack this Aegon, real or pretender. Oberyn was torn. He could not attack his nephew. But could he attack his old friend and risk war with the Reach at this crucial time? The Others were checked but not defeated. He had to get these men north, but he could not leave an enemy behind him. There was only one thing to do. He had to see this boy calling himself Aegon and see if he truly was his sister's son.

"We are coming with you, Willas," Oberyn said at last. "We will come to Storm's End and I will see who this boy is for myself." And if he is truly my nephew, he thought but did not say, I may have to kill you old friend.


	2. Chapter 2 Arya

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 3 Chapter 2 Arya**

She was lucky the captain of the ship found her first, and not Ser Axell or any of his men. She was also lucky she had not drowned, or had become very ill by the time the captain found her. Arya had entered the ship by an open window on the stern and had nearly died doing so. In the hustle and bustle on the docks while Robb had tried to speak reason with Ser Axell Florent, Arya had been looking for any way to get aboard the ship, find Gendry and get him off. The ship was tied to the end of the wharf with the stern pointing toward the harbor so there was a blind spot at the stern where no one could see. She was pushed aside in the press of people shoving and shouting, and in moments she had moved toward the end of the wharf and the stern. The name of the ship, _Princess of the Seas_, was there, painted in gold, below a row of four windows, with the letters carved out of wood and nailed to the stern. It was then she saw that one of the windows in the stern of the ship was open.

A rope ladder was attached to the wharf's pilings at the end. It went down to the water at this point, a place where small boats could unload passengers. Also there was a rope that went from the stern of the ship to the wharf, the rope drooping down slightly. With the smell of the sea and the wharf strong in her nose Arya swiftly climbed down and reached up and grabbed the rope that tied the ship up to the wharf. She tensed herself and swung out on the rope. It wasn't far, just a few feet to the ship, but the rope was not taut and her weight made the rope sag and her feet and lower legs got dragged through the cold water of the harbor. She almost shrieked in shock but shook it off, gritted her teeth, and pulled her legs up. She moved hand over hand for a few feet and then swung up and into the open window and landed on a table with a clatter. Thankfully no one was here and after a few moments she was certain no one had heard her, maybe because they were all too busy up on the deck.

But someone had seen her. As Arya picked herself up she started to set the table right and as she did so she looked out the window. She saw Nymeria, at the very end of the wharf, looking at her oddly.

"You can't come," Arya said, but not too loud. "They'd just kill you. Stay and look after my family."

Nymeria stared some more, with almost a hurt look on her face, and Arya felt a twinge of guilt. She started wondering maybe if she shouldn't get Nymeria to come with her somehow and then swiftly remembered why she was here. She had to get Gendry off this ship.

But there was no chance. She looked out the door and saw a crowded deck full of men shouting and pulling on ropes. She had one glimpse of Gendry being taken down into the hold of the ship through a hatchway in the center of the deck. Then Arya's worst fears happened. Men began shouted and she heard some shout to untie the ship. A few moments later the ship began to move sideways and after some more time came the splash of oars hitting water.

"No," she thought, fear in her heart. "We can't leave. Not yet!"

She looked around, trying to think what to do, and saw only a narrow bed next to a wall, the table, two chairs, and a cabinet of sorts. There were also some rugs on the floor and a tall clothes dresser in the corner. She opened its two tall doors and only saw clothes, men's clothes, all very big, hanging on hooks. In the cabinet she found maps and charts, ink pots and quills, parchment, and books, all about the sea and navigation, by the titles on their bindings.

Arya sat at the table and let her predicament sink in. She had made a terrible mistake, but knew she had no choice. If she had let them go without her being on board she knew she would never see Gendry again. It was then she realized her legs were still very wet and very cold, feeling them start to go a bit numb.

Arya took off her boots and dumped the cold water out of them out the open window which she left open as she thought maybe someone had opened it for a reason. She was thinking of taking off her socks and breeches as well and wrapping herself in something else when she heard voices outside of the door and then it began to open. She dashed for the bed and just managed to slip between it and the wall, dropping her boots in with her. As she scrunched down Needle almost stabbed her in the leg.

She heard footsteps moving around and then the person left the room again and the door slammed shut. Arya peeked up and saw she was alone. Fearing what would happen if someone came back she lay there and did not move. Her lower legs and feet were wet, and she felt very cold despite having her woolen shirt, a leather jerkin and a fur coat on her top. She wore a small, tight fitting fur hat but she had left her direwolf's helmet back in White Harbor in her room. Gendry had made it for her and it had saved her life. As she thought on that suddenly the whole day came crashing down on her nerves and she felt a flood of emotions. First, the operation on her father, then Gendry's arrest, the confrontation at the docks, all of it caught up to her and she found herself drifting off to sleep as she felt exhaustion take over.

She dreamed and it was a direwolf dream and knew she was inside Nymeria. She wandered the docks of White Harbor and howled at the sky and stared out to sea and saw a ship far away, sailing past the mole and out toward the open sea.

"I can't find her," said a voice in frustration. It was Sansa.

"I neither," said Robb as her stood beside her.

"Gods…do you think…?" That was her mother, and she had fear in her eyes as she looked out to sea. Then her mother looked directly at Nymeria. "Arya…where are you?"

And Nymeria looked out to sea and howled again and Catelyn Stark cried in anguish. "Gods, no! She must be on that ship!"

"Lord Manderly," Robb said sharply and now Arya saw the fat lord of White Harbor there as well as were many other people. "My sister must be on that ship. I need your fastest galley so I can run her down."

"And then what happens, Robb?" Arya's mother was saying, choking back her fear. "You will board it and maybe die and get Arya and Gendry killed as well?"

"I have to do something!" Robb shouted in frustration.

"Your lady mother is right, my lord," said Lord Manderly. "There is naught we can do that will not end in bloodshed, ours and theirs. If she is there and they find her Ser Axell will not harm her. He may be an arrogant fool but he will know he will sign his own death warrant if he harms her."

"He is right, Robb," said Catelyn, her voice sounding calmer now. "She will be safe, I pray."

"And want about Gendry?" Robb asked quietly.

"Arya couldn't let him go," Sansa said in heartbreaking tone. "She…she had to do. She loves him too much to let him go."

"I feared this for a long time," said Catelyn Stark. "Stannis wants him…dead or for whatever else that witch of his is planning."

"Father could…" Sansa began but then stopped and no one said anything.

They stood there for a long time looking out at the ship moving farther away with every moment. "Come," said Catelyn at last. "Let us get out of the cold." She looked at Nymeria. "You come as well…at least we can hope to tell Arya what we are doing. Sansa, stay close to Nymeria."

"Yes, Mother. Where will you be?"

"In the sept. I have many candles to light. Lord Manderly, can you show me the way?"

"Of course, my lady."

Robb stood on the docks and did not move. "Robb?" said a voice and now through Nymeria's eyes Arya saw Roslin. "Come, Robb. We can do nothing here."

Robb growled in frustration, "I should have…done something."

Roslin said nothing and only put a hand on his shoulder and after a moment Robb turned away and Nymeria followed them away from the docks.

Suddenly Arya felt a hand on her and she was being picked up. "You!" said a rough voice and then she was dragged out of her hiding spot and thrown over the bed and to the floor. Her legs hurt and she cried out as she hit the carpets. "What in blazes…gods, who are you?" came a shout.

He was a big man, with a thick black beard and blue eyes and for a moment Arya thought it was King Robert come back to life. But no, he was dead and this man was not so big, and his hair not so thick, his beard not as big. He was dressed in browns and blues, dyed wool, with a thick grey leathery looking coat and big boots, heavy and wool lined she could tell. She looked for a sigil but found none. He was not Ser Axell's man. At least she hoped he wasn't.

"I'm sorry," Arya squeaked out as she tried to stand. She was in her stocking feet, her socks still damp, and she stood awkwardly, her legs still half asleep and finally she fell into one of the chairs by the table. She took a deep breath and spoke rapidly. "But I can't let them kill him. He's my husband!"

"You're husband?" the man repeated in confusion. He turned from her and turned up the flame on an oil lamp that was now on the table. "Who are you?" he asked again as he looked closely in the better light.

"Arya Stark, Lord Stark's daughter."

"Gods be good…what in the seven hells are you doing on my ship?"

"Your ship…I thought it was Ser Axell's."

The man grunted. "Piss on him. This is my ship. I am Captain Inesto Pyllia from the Free City of Pentos."

"You don't sound like you are from Pentos."

"You know many people from Pentos?"

"No…but I knew someone from Braavos and they talk different from us here."

"Just so. But maybe I sound more like Westerosi because I have been in Westeros some twenty years now, first in the service of Robert Baratheon during his rebellion and then after as one of his captains. Now I serve King Stannis. But…what's all this about a husband?"

"The prisoner, Gendry…he's my husband and I am his lady wife."

The captain laughed and Arya got mad. "I am, too!"

He stopped laughing, and stared at her. "How old are you child?"

"Eleven and I am not a child…well, I'm not a woman grown yet either. But Gendry and I got married in the godswood at Winterfell a few weeks past. I mean, we had a wedding, we said our vows, but…but…well…"

Captain Inesto's face turned soft. "Ah...say no more. I understand. So…you are here to free our prisoner?"

"No, I…" she started and she bit her lower lip and knew a lie would not do here. Why else would she be on the ship? "Yes," she admitted.

"And where would you go if you free him?'

"Ah…back to White Harbor…please."

He shook his head and sighed. "No, my child, so sorry, but we are bound for Saltpans I fear."

"But you must let us go! My father will reward you!"

He sighed. "If your father lives, maybe he would. But King Stannis will give me to the red woman's flames if I do what you ask."

"You don't understand! They want to kill him!"

"Maybe so…but I sail ships. I do not understand kings. Or the red woman. Or disobey either of them. You will not be a welcome sight to Ser Axell. But I will protect you, fear not. Stay here. I will get you food and maybe some dry clothes. Did you swim on board?"

"Almost…through the window. Please…help me."

"I can't. King…"

"Robert is Gendry's father."

Inesto studied her for a long moment. "Just so. This news I know. That is why Ser Axell took him. He commanded me to get ready to sail this morning, that he knew where one of King Robert's sons was. I did not think he meant this son."

"What? What other son is there?"

"You know, in White Harbor there is another boy like him, only younger. They say he is Robert's son as well."

"What…Gendry has a brother in White Harbor?" Arya asked in surprise.

"Just so. And when Ser Axell began asking questions about any of Robert's natural children, the people hid this boy from his eyes. I heard this from a drunk one night in a pub. I thought maybe it is lies, maybe the man wants gold for his information. But the man wanted no gold and he did not know where the boy was. I thought to tell Ser Axell, but then I knew what would happen. He would tear apart the town to find the boy and there would be blood. Then the Others attacked and there was no more time to search for dark-haired, blue-eyed children. But now he has one…he will not let him go…and I cannot either."

Arya had to know the truth. "The red woman wants to kill him, doesn't she?"

Inesto shrugged. "I know not, my lady. But she demanded one of Robert's children…it matters not which one…she needs one of them for something…and what that something is I do not ask and do not want to know."

"But…" Arya said and she felt like crying and screaming and cursing the gods and…and then she just sighed and she felt the tears roll down her cheeks. "At least let me see him."

He looked pained and embarrassed at her tears and she quickly wiped her eyes. "I will try," Inesto said. "But first I must ask for your sword."

"No." Arya's heart quailed. "I…I need it."

"No one will harm you. I have near two hundred men on this ship all loyal to me, Inesto Pyllia. You shall have some time with your husband, Arya Stark. Now, rest, and I will do what I can for you. But first…the sword."

"Needle."

"Needle…a fitting name for such a slim blade. Please."

He held out his hand and Arya hesitated. She would feel almost naked without Needle but knew she had no choice. He was the captain, he would try to help her, she had to trust him or she was done. She stood, a bit wobbly, and undid her belt and handed it over. He walked to the tall dresser where his clothing was and he put Needle inside.

"There," he said after he closed the doors. "It is still yours. When we reach Saltpans I will return it."

"You promise?"

He bowed slightly. "On my honor, Lady Stark. Now, I will get you dry clothing and food and then I must make your presence known to Ser Axell. He may want words with you. But he will not harm you. This I promise with my life."

Captain Inesto left her then and a short time later returned with a boy about Arya's age. The boy thrust a pair of breeches and socks at her and left with a sour look on his face. "He is the cabin boy. I suppose he thinks he will not get them back. Only until yours dry I told him. So...food will come next."

"Thank you."

He did a little bow and left her. Arya got out of her wet clothes and put on the ones they had brought her. She hated wearing other people's clothing but she had no choice. The breeches barely went past her knees and the socks were too short as well but at least they were dry. She put her wet breeches and socks on the back of the chairs to dry. Her wet boots she left on the floor near the four windows that ran along the back of the captain's cabin. A knock came to the door and she opened it. A large bald man with some gold teeth and tattoos on the backs of his hands entered with a tray and a bowl of soup and some bread and a cup of ale.

"Your ladyship," he said with a dip of his head. Normally Arya would shout at anyone who said that but now she liked it in a way. Her nobility was like armor here. If she had been some smallfolk girl they would have thrown her overboard by now. Or worse.

"Thank you," she said politely after he put the tray on the table. Arya had had breakfast just an hour or so past…or was it? She did not know how long she had slept. It was still day she could tell by the dim light coming through the cabin's window. Anyway, now she felt famished and ate the soup. It was crab soup and was very good and the bread was warm and coated with thick slabs of butter. After she ate she sat on the chair and looked toward the clothes dresser where Needle was and thought about getting it and just going and killing Ser Axell but she knew she needed a plan first, so she could do it without anyone knowing or her getting caught. The raged she had felt when they took Gendry had subsided somewhat and her head was clearer now. She had said those names over and over and had wanted to kill them all.

Robb had looked at her with worry and fear. "Arya…what are you saying?" he had asked and she had stared at him for a brief moment but said nothing and then remembered about Royce and how he knew all about Gendry. She stormed off with Robb following her and she confronted the tall farmer but Arya quickly realized he knew nothing. And then came a shout that Ser Axell was leaving, ready to sail now. Arya had thought they had time, time for her father to wake up, time for Lord Manderly to do something, time to free Gendry. But time had run out and now she was here, all alone, and she feared Gendry would die. If that happened, then Ser Axell, Stannis, the red woman, anyone responsible…they would have to die as well, someday, somehow, somewhere.

No sooner had she thought this then the door opened again and Captain Inesto came in with Ser Axell behind him. The large ugly uncle of the Queen had a dark look and in the dim light of the cabin seemed a terrible beast. But Arya had been fighting beasts for many moons now and he held no fear for her.

"You…willful…spiteful child!" Ser Axell snapped at her. "You dare to come on this ship, with what intentions in mind I can only imagine, and now you demand to be allowed to see our prisoner!"

"I do."

"By what right…"

"He is my husband," she said swiftly.

"A lie."

"It is not! You heard my brother Robb. We were married before the weirwood in the godswood at Winterfell."

"A marriage before a tree," Ser Axell scoffed. "You northerners and your superstitions. When King Stannis has won this war all those damn trees will be uprooted and burned."

"He can't!"

Ser Axell stepped towards her, looming and menacing. "Words like that best not come from your mouth when you meet your King…Lady Stark."

"Meet…the King? When? Where?"

"In Saltpans…when depends on the captain and his crew."

"And the winds," Inesto said. "Mayhaps seven days or sooner…or later."

"In the meantime…Lady Stark," Ser Axell began, his tone of distain for her title clear. "You will be confined to a small cabin and…"

"I will not," retorted Arya the same time Inesto said, "She will not."

Ser Axell turned on the captain. "I am in charge of this vessel and I say…"

Inesto laughed at him. "In charge? Soon you will be greensick again. Look, my lord, we have no time for this. The girl is not going anywhere. Let her see her man, let them have this time together. If you treat her like a prisoner, or harm her in any way, some day Ned Stark will come asking for his revenge."

"Stark will likely be dead in a day or two," Ser Axell countered. Arya was about to shout that wasn't true, that the old woman had saved her father, but maybe Ser Axell knew nothing of the operation. She decided to keep that information to herself.

"Maybe, but his sons will not," the captain said. "Nor will all the North ever forget this matter. Let her see him, let them have this time."

"You do not give me orders in this matter, captain."

Arya wanted to shout at him but kept calm. "I promise to be good."

Ser Axell turned on her. "Why did you come on this ship? To free him, isn't that the truth?"

Arya sighed. "Yes…but now it's too late. Like the captain said, where could we go?"

Ser Axell ground his teeth and finally nodded "Very well. But it's on your head, captain. If any mischief happens I will make sure the King knows who is responsible."

Just as he said this the ship took a lurch and Arya almost fell down. She saw the look on Ser Axell's face and knew at once he was going to be sick. "Take care of this matter captain," he said swiftly. "I will be in my cabin."

He turned without another word and left them. Captain Inesto laughed. "That man we will not see much of before we make harbor."

"What's wrong with him?" Arya asked, hoping he had some deadly illness.

"No stomach for the sea. Come…let us find your husband."

When she saw him at last Arya got a shock. Gendry was on a lower deck where they stored the crates of food and casks of salt pork and beef, and ale and wine for the crew. He was in a tiny room with no windows except a small square hole in the upper part of the door with iron bars across it. There was no bed or mattress and just a bucket in the corner for his privy. A small candle in holder on the wall was his only source of light. He was still chained and the chains were attached to another chain on the wall. Later when she thought on it Arya was sure this room had been purpose built to hold prisoners or crewmen who had broken some rules. A large man with the sigil of King Stannis on his surcoat stood outside the room. He almost refused to open the door but after Captain Inesto insisted he did so.

"Arya!" Gendry said in shock when she rushed at him with tears in her eyes. She hugged him tight and kissed his cheek. "Gods almighty what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cried. "I couldn't let them leave with you." She quickly explained what she had done.

"If Ser Axell finds you…"

"He knows she is here and why," said the captain from the doorway. "No harm will come to your…wife. You have my word. I am Captain Inesto Pyllia."

"Hello," Gendry replied.

"Are you truly husband and wife?" the captain asked him.

"We are, but a few weeks ago."

"Then I will give you my congratulations. I wish I could do more, but.."

"Take his chains off," Arya said at once, trying to sound like her father did when he used his lord's voice. "And get him a bed or a mattress. A blanket at least. And maybe some more light. A whale oil lamp."

"Aye…it will be so. Now come, young lady, you have seen him, he has seen you. I promise you can return later for a longer visit."

She hugged Gendry once more and whispered in his ear. "I will find a way out of this I promise. I love you."

Tears were in her eyes as he returned her words of love and then the captain insisted she leave.

Out on deck Arya stood in the cold wind and watched the coast of White Harbor's firth flowing past each side of the ship, the city far behind them by now. The rhythm of the oars stroking through the water suddenly stopped and up above two sails were unfurled and soon caught the wind. The ship heeled over and then began to rise and fall gently on some small waves.

The sailors looked at her oddly but said nothing and many dipped their heads to her or knuckled their foreheads the way she had seen smallfolk do to her father and mother sometimes. There were many of Stannis' men there as well, and all gave her stern looks, and none dipped their heads to her.

"Come," the captain said to her when he was done setting the sails right. "I will show you to a private cabin."

She was led back down below under a hatch near the stern. Here she was shown to a small door which led to a small cabin. It had a bed built into the wall with high board on the outside which Arya later learned was to prevent her from falling out of bed in rough weather. There was a whale oil lantern hanging from the ceiling and a small porthole with a thick hatch made of wood covered in canvas. It was now open, letting in some fresh air. A small table was under the porthole and there was one small chair. Under the table was a chamber pot. Hanging from the chair were her wet clothes and by the bed were her boots.

"Your quarters, my lady," Captain Inesto told her with a bit of a flourish with his right hand.

"Thank you," she replied, but her voice was sad and she knew her face was morose.

The captain stood in the doorway as she entered. "I am sorry," he said.

"For what?" Arya asked as she turned to face him

"For not believing you are married. I see now it is love, true love, even for two so young."

"Then will you…?" she started to ask but he raised a hand.

"I cannot help you."

"No, I guess not. Could you maybe even….not stop us. I mean…if.."

"Now you are being foolish, if I may say so, my lady. Even if I turned a blind eye and ordered my crew to do the same, there are still Ser Axell's men. And what if you got him out, and took one of my small boats? Do you know how to row? To sail?"

"No."

"Does your husband?"

"I don't think so…no."

"No. So…you will drown, or get washed up on some rocks, or get lost and starve and die of thirst. No, my lady, think no more of escape. Stay with us to Saltpans…there…there you will have a better chance. There is a war going on and in war, anything is possible."

"I shall never forget your helping us," Arya said to him.

Now he seemed sad. "I only wish I could do more. Rest for now. I will bring you food later."

"I will eat with the crew," she declared. She couldn't stand being cooped up in the small cabin the whole journey. "If that's allowed."

He smiled. "As you wish…my lady."

Captain Inesto dipped his head and left her. Once he was gone she wanted to cry her heart out but kept control of her emotions. She was only eleven years old but felt she had lived twice that many years and could hardly remember the childhood she had left behind that day she had left Winterfell with her father and sister and many more people who were now dead. Had it all been a dream, she thought, as she sat in the chair by her small table. Had she really killed people, killed demons, fallen in love, and gotten married? She looked at her hands, small and dirty, hard with calluses from sword play and practice, her fingernails ragged and with dirt under them. Not the hands of a lady. Not that Arya ever wanted a lady's hands or to be a lady….but now…now she was married and loved a man…and soon he might be dead.

How could she stop that from happening? Escape. But how? And to where? Nowhere. She looked out the porthole and all she saw was water and clouds in the sky. Like the captain said even if they got off this ship, the sea was out there, and it was cold and dangerous and would soon make short work of them. Saltpans was their destination and if, when, they got there, maybe there was a better chance to escape. She tried to remember where Saltpans was and all she could recall was that it was near the Trident somewhere.

Later that day the clouds broke for a short time and as the sun was setting to the west Arya stood on deck and saw in the distance to the south three low lying shapes on the horizon. They looked like islands and she wondered if she could get Gendry away and steal a small boat and go there. That would not be too hard, she hoped.

Just then Captain Inesto walked by and saw where she was looking. "The Three Sisters," he told her. "Three more treacherous islands you will never know."

"Oh…are there many rocks around them?"

"Just so…but it's the people who live there that are the greater danger. They place false lights on shore during storms and trick ships into thinking they found a safe harbor. When the ships pile up on the rocks the people swarm out in small boats to kill the survivors and take the cargos."

"That's terrible!" Arya said in shock. "Some lord should put an end to it."

"They have tried, your family as well in the past. But the Sisters have their own ways and it would take too much blood spilled to set them to rights."

Just then she heard a bell ring four times and Captain Inesto said that was the dinner bell. He showed her the way down below and she sat with him and his men as they ate fish stew and brown bread with dark ale to wash it down, and some apple pie for after. The men were from many lands, most from Westeros, some from the Free Cities like the captain, and even a man so dark he must be from the Summer Islands. The captain spoke to them all as if they were his friends, and he smiled often and laughed a lot and so did most of the crew.

When the crew were near done eating, the soldiers began to come down a gangway to eat on the mess deck. They began to occupy tables as the sailors finished and food and drink were brought to them by the mess servants. Ser Axell wasn't with them, in his cabin, Inesto whispered to her, with the greensickness. After she rose from her seat and followed the sailors and captain toward the gangway to the upper deck one of the soldiers with the fiery heart sigil accosted her from his table by the gangway.

"It's the little girl with the big mouth and the little sword," the man quipped to his fellows who laughed. "Where's your sword now, little girl?"

Arya remembered him, one of the ones who had come to arrest Gendry in White Harbor. "My sword is resting now," she said to him in a flat tone. "It needs to be fresh for when it cuts out your heart."

Suddenly all went quiet, and then the sailors who had heard started to laugh and make rude comments at the expense of the soldier. The solider growled and stood up and looked like he would hit her but the captain and his sailors stepped between them. Then it looked like the sailors and soldiers would fight as many soldiers stood up, but the captain put an end to it. "Sit and eat, my friends," Captain Inesto said to the soldiers. "Why cause trouble where there is none?"

"She insulted me," the soldier claimed.

"After you insulted her," the captain shot back. "You know who she is?"

"I do," the soldier replied grudgingly.

"And what would King Stannis do to you if he knew you struck a lady of the realm?"

The man's silence was answer enough. "Good," said Inesto and he turned to look at the rest of the soldiers sitting down to eat. "Lady Stark is a guest on my ship," he shouted, his voice booming across the mess deck. "Any man who harms her or even insults her or her kin will swim to Saltpans."

No one said a word and by then Arya was at the gangway and she quickly went up the stairs and ran to the deck railing. She felt flushed and embarrassed at having to have someone to protect her. Too long she had protected herself with Needle and now she felt almost naked.

"Do not worry," said the captain by her side after a few moments. "They will not bother you again."

"Thank you," she grudgingly said and he knew she was upset.

"If you would prefer to kill the man…"

"No," she quickly replied. "Just…he was one of those that came for Gendry. I drew my sword on him when it happened."

"I understand."

"Do you?" she asked. "Are you married?"

"Once, many years ago."

Now Arya felt bad but she had to ask. "She died?"

"Yes."

"Did someone ever take her from you?"

"Only the gods when they gave her and my two children the greyscale while I was at sea."

Arya felt really bad now. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," the captain replied. "But I understand how you feel. That soldier called you a little girl. I thought so at first as well. But maybe you are not so little after all. Come, you can spend time with your husband now."

Down below they went and the captain ordered the guard on the door to open it. Inside it was better. Gendry now had a straw mattress and a blanket and he was no longer chained to the wall nor had chains on his hands. There was a small oil lantern hanging on the wall. He was sitting on the mattress eating from a bowl.

"Just in time for dinner, am I?" Arya said and he looked up and smiled at her, missing his mouth with the spoonful of soup he had. They both laughed and then their faces grew serious when the door was locked again.

"Did you eat?" he asked and she had and told him to finish. As he ate she told him about her cabin and the Sisters and what happened on the mess deck.

"Be careful," he warned her as he put his empty bowl down on the floor. "Stannis' men have no love for us."

"I will," she promised. The ship swayed a bit then and it felt like the sea was getting rougher. Arya then crawled forward and sat on the mattress with him.

"Arya…"

"Shut up," she said and then she kissed him, full on the mouth and he tasted like ale and fish stew and love. She snuggled up to him and he wrapped his arms around her and for a long time they sat like that, him leaning up against the wall and her in his big strong arms. Then she cried and cried for a long time, and he held her close and stroked her hair and told her it would be all right, but she knew it wouldn't. They would never even get to be man and wife as the gods meant them to be.

"I wish I was fifteen like you," she said quietly after she had finally stopped crying.

"I'm sixteen," he said.

She sat up and looked at him, sure the surprise was clear on her face. "What? When?"

"When we were on the river from Winterfell to White Harbor. At least I think so. Maybe it was sooner."

She got mad then. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to but it seemed like a bad time to have a name day party. I wasn't sure of the exact day anyways."

"Gods…I could have done something at least. Sixteen! Now you are a man."

"Aye."

"I wish…I wish I was as old. Then we could…" But she couldn't say it, yet he understood.

"Aye. So do I." In the dim candle light she could see him flush like he always did.

"Have you ever…?"

"No. I told you I never had a special lady before you."

She felt like crying again but held back the tears. "Why have the gods been so cruel to us?"

He grunted. "Not the gods. Men."

"And women," she said in a whisper. "The red woman."

He stared at her and somehow he knew what she wanted to do. "Arya…you can't."

"I will," she whispered, her eyes shining with her emotions. "If she means to harm you, nothing will stop me."

"If they kill me…"

She gasped. "Don't say that."

"If…you must promise me to live."

Tears were coming down her face again. "I will. But I will have my revenge first."

She thought he would be mad and tell her no again but he only nodded. "If so then make sure you can get away."

"I will. But first I promise that all those who harm you will pay."

Then she heard the door unlocking and when the guard told her it was time to go, she kissed him once more before she left.

And so went the routine on the ship. Day after day she awoke, and she ate with the crew and tried to avoid the soldiers, and spent two times a day with Gendry, and some time with the captain, who asked her all about her adventures which she told him about. His astonishment at all she had done made her think he did not believe her but he never said so. She only saw Ser Axell when night came and his men gathered on deck and prayed to the Lord of Light before a fire in an iron brazier. He barely spoke and soon retired to his cabin.

Each night when she was alone in her cabin Arya tried to reach out with her mind to find Nymeria. Only once did she succeed and it was only for a few moments and saw only the snowy streets of White Harbor and then she lost the contact. Then she fell asleep and dreamed the direwolf dream and the news she got was so great she wanted to leap up and down for joy.

She drifted off and soon was dreaming. Nymeria was sitting in the dark outside the house of healing in White Harbor, chewing on a bone, with Shaggy and Grey Wind nearby, all three chained up. She sensed how the chain chaffed and how Nymeria hated it. Then the door opened and Sansa and Robb came out, and in the light from the house she saw them both looking happy for a change.

"The gods have been good," Robb said. "I must tell Lord Manderly the news. Stay with him and don't let mother do too much. She needs to rest now."

"Yes…I just wish…." and then Sansa started crying and Robb hugged her.

"We will all be together again someday, I promise."

"Yes…go, and hurry back."

Robb left then and Sansa stood on the steps and cried some more and smiled and laughed. She looked down at the direwolves and she laughed and then she hugged them each in turn. When she came to Nymeria she looked into her eyes and whispered.

"Arya…father woke up."

And Nymeria howled.

The next morning at breakfast, the men of the ship were looking at her oddly and Captain Inesto was as well.

"What's wrong?" Arya finally asked him.

"Nothing, not to worry my lady," he replied.

"Tell me," she demanded, trying to say it in her lord's voice.

He sighed. "It seems…well…some of the crew on duty last night…they thought they heard an animal in your cabin."

"Oh," Arya said, trying to look surprised. "An animal?"

"Yes…one even swears he heard a wolf howl."

Arya laughed in a nervous way. "A wolf? No, sorry, no wolves in my room."

Inesto laughed a bit as well. "No, of course not."

No more was said of the incident. When she told Gendry later that day and about her father being awake he was both happy and worried. "You can't let them know what you are." Of course she agreed with him but she couldn't very well control her dreams.

On the third day the weather was rough and the ship heaved and came up and down on the waves. Snow blew in their faces and the sails had to be hauled down and the oars shipped out. The captain shouted at her to get to her cabin and all day she lay in her bunk wrapped in blankets and prayed and asked the gods to save them all. Someone must have been listening for the storm passed and they did not sink. When she felt it safe to come on deck again she was shocked at the snow and ice that was everywhere, coating the railings and rigging and masts.

"Its too heavy!' the captain shouted. "We must break the ice!"

Men swarmed over the ship with mallets and axes and pounded and hacked off the ice before it could topple the ship with its weight.

"Gendry is strong and can swing a mallet as well as any man," she said to Inesto and he nodded.

"Release the prisoner," he shouted and soon Gendry was on deck helping where he could. But after the work was done he was sent back to his cell and things went back to the way they were.

A few days later they turned to the west and the captain told her they had entered the Bay of Crabs. The water was not so rough and Ser Axell finally emerged on deck during the day. He was pale and looked thinner. He spotted Arya sitting with some sailors on deck as they taught her how to make different knots they used on the ship's rigging.

"You are no lady," Ser Axell grunted as he walked by.

Arya dropped the ropes she was working on and stood. "I never said I was."

Ser Axell turned back to her, a bit of red in his cheeks now. "If I was your father I'd have you whipped and put in chains till you learned to hold your tongue and respect your betters."

"You are not my father, thank the gods," Arya retorted. "I'll show you respect if you show it to me as well."

Ser Axell growled and looked about to shout at her but many eyes were on them and he held his temper. "Your father was a fool to let you marry someone so far beneath your station."

"Gendry is a knight."

"Making him a knight does not wash the taint of being a low born bastard."

"A king's bastard!" Arya shot back, hating to use that word.

She expected him to be angry again but he only grunted. "Yes, a king's bastard, and you and all of Westeros will soon be thanking the Lord of Light he is such. For when the deed is done and the victory is ours, they will sing songs of his sacrifice and praise his courage."

"What? What sacrifice?" Arya asked, fear in her heart.

"It is not my place to say. Suffice it to say the King has great need of your husband." He turned and walked away and Arya stood there shaking. She looked around her and the sailors all avoided her eye, as if ashamed of something. Even Captain Inesto would not look at her, hearing all from where he stood by the ship's wheel. But the soldiers on deck did and more than one of them smirked.

Later when she visited Gendry she told him about the conversation. "What does it mean?" he asked.

"They will sacrifice you," she said with tears in her eyes. "They will kill you!"

"But how will that save Westeros? I am just one man!"

"I don't know. But we must escape!"

"How?"

"When we get to Saltpans I will find a way," she promised.

Three days later they rowed into the harbor of Saltpans, arriving late in the afternoon on a cloudy cold day. The harbor was full of ships, at least twenty, she thought, as the _Princess of the Seas_ maneuvered between them. Arya looked to the shore and she saw five wharves with only one empty berth. Opposite the town was a small island out in the Bay of Crabs. It was hilly and covered in snow. Tendrils of smoke rose in the air from several buildings on the island. Arya asked a sailor what island it was and who lived there.

"The Quiet Isle, it is called," he replied. "Only monks live there. They make a good mead I heard, but I never tried it."

Arya was thinking on how she could get her and Gendry to that isle when a small rowboat came out to them.

"What ship?" shouted a man in the boat.

"The _Princess of the Seas_," Captain Inesto shouted back. "Can we berth?"

"Aye. You are expected."

Ser Axell shouted down to the boat. "What news of the King?"

"At the Ruby Ford of the Trident," came the reply. "Holding back the ice demons." Ser Axell looked like he wanted to ask more but the boat was already rowing away. The news that the Others were being held at the Trident swept through the ship quickly as the men moved the ship into the empty berth.

Arya was on deck looking at the shore and saw a bustle of activity as they came closer. The town and it's wharves were alive with men moving about, and most looked like soldiers. As soon as they docked Ser Axell and Captain Inesto immediately went onshore. Soon after many men on the docks began to load the ship with provisions. A man with reddish hair and beard wearing Stannis' sigil came on board with a piece of parchment in hand. He talked with the ship's first mate and then stood on deck as the crew began to bring on board many barrels and crates and bags of food, and casks of water and other drink. The red-haired man began to tick items off on his parchment, checking some of the bags and barrels to make sure the contents were correct.

Then came a man who was dressed like a lord and carried himself as such. He told the soldiers to get off, except for twenty of them, and soon the ship began to empty of most of Stannis' men.

"Good riddance," said one of the sailors in a low voice as the soldiers went on the wharf and marched away into the town.

Arya went down below, hoping no one was guarding Gendry now, but she found Gendry still in his room, now with two of Stannis' men as guards. "I want to see him," she demanded.

"Sorry, my lady, we have orders to not let you in," said one soldier, a big man with a dark beard.

"Whose orders?"

"Ser Axell's, my lady," said the solider.

She wanted to shout at them but knew it would do no good. Gendry came to the small window. "Arya…what's happening?" he asked.

"We are at Saltpans. I have to find out what's going on. I'll be right back."

Up on deck the sailors all stood around looking like they wanted to go into the town but apparently they had no permission to do so yet.

"Don't we get no shore leave?" asked one young sailor.

One man, a grizzled and grey bearded old sailor, spoke up. "War going on here, sunny Jack. You land on this shore they might never let you back again. Them soldiers is going to face the demons, they is. Want no part of that again."

"Did you fight at White Harbor?" Arya asked him.

"Aye, we all did," said the old sailor. "Your lord father saved us, the Seven bless his heart. I hope the gods see him live."

"They have," Arya said without thinking. "He is alive. I think." All she knew for sure was that he had waken up. In the days since that bit of news she had been unable to make any connection to Nymeria and knew not what went on in White Harbor.

"Your father lives, it is true, I have heard it," said a voice and Arya turned and it was the red-haired supply officer.

She stared at him. "Who are you?"

He dipped his head. "Ser William Porte, supply commissioner for Saltpans. And you are Lady Arya Stark, yes?"

"I am," she said, wondering how he knew that. "How do you know my father lives?"

"The King had a letter from him many days past. I was warned to expect your father and some reinforcements from White Harbor, but later than sooner. Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King, also told me you might be on this ship…and a prisoner as well."

"What else did my father write?" Arya asked, feeling some hope knowing he might be coming here.

"I am not privy to that information, my lady."

"What's the news of the war, ser?" asked the old sailor before Arya could ask any more questions.

"The King has made a coalition with Lord Tyrion Lannister and Lord Tyrell," Ser William told the gathered sailors on deck. "They beat the Others back three days ago and now all has been mostly quiet. The Vale has joined us as well."

"Then the Others are defeated?" Arya asked, hoping the war was over.

"No, my lady," Ser William replied. "They cannot be defeated so easily. They are still out there somewhere, making plans I am sure."

Just then a man came striding down the wharf with Captain Inesto. He was smaller and looked older than the captain, with a graying beard and brown hair, and a worry lined face. He wore no armor or sigil but plain clothes, a seaman's clothing Arya thought. As he walked many men on the wharf dipped their heads to him. He climbed on the ship as if he had been doing so all his life, with ease and grace. As he came on board all the sailors dipped their heads to him.

"What's the situation?" the man asked Ser William.

"My Lord Hand, the supplies are loaded."

"Good," said Captain Inesto. He turned to his crew. "Our orders are to stay here for now but we may leave in the morning. Shore leave is granted for all who want it, but be back on ship before the dawn. Any man who causes trouble will face the red woman."

Arya saw more than one face pale at these words. Some men left the ship but many others stayed behind. Ser William took his leave as well and went back on the wharf and walked into the town, his parchment in his hand.

Then the older man turned to look at Arya. "You must be Lady Stark."

"Arya," she said without thinking.

"This is Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King." Captain Inesto informed her.

She dipped her head. "My lord…is it true my father has written the King?"

Ser Davos looked a bit surprised. "Aye, it is so. He is healing from his wounds, thank the gods. He is also worried about you and asked us to look out for you on this ship. Come. I was told to take you off this ship and make sure you are safe."

"My hus…," she started but stopped herself. "Gendry…can he come as well?"

Ser Davos nodded. "Aye," he said and turned to the captain. "Where is he?"

Down below they went and outside the door of the cell Ser Davos quickly told the guards to open the door. Gendry stood as they came inside.

"He is the Hand of the King," Arya quickly explained.

Gendry dipped his head. "My lord."

Ser Davos sniffed and looked around the small room. "Better than most," he said. He looked at Gendry. "What is your name?"

"Gend…sorry, Ser Gendry of Winterfell."

"What is this? A knight, are you?"

"My father had him knighted before our marriage," Arya explained.

"Marriage? Aye, the captain said something about this." He looked back at Gendry. "You are the son of Robert Baratheon?"

"So Lord Stark told me."

"Aye…you have his look for certain." He seemed disappointed for some reason. "Well, let us go onshore."

One of the soldiers protested. "He should be in chains, my Lord Hand."

Ser Davos stopped and looked at Gendry and back at the soldiers. "Where could he escape to? There is just the sea and the Others. No, no chains."

Up on deck they were about to leave when Arya remembered she had forgotten something. She looked at Captain Inesto. "You promised. On your honor."

"Just so," said the captain and he returned a few moments later with Needle, which Arya thank him for and quickly strapped around her waist.

"Goodbye, Lady Stark. May the gods look on you with favor."

"And you captain, and your ship," she replied and then she went on the dock, where Ser Davos, Gendry, and the two soldiers were waiting.

The town was small but crowded, with many sailors and soldiers. To the left of the harbor was a small keep, a few stories high, and over it stood two standards, one a large silver codfish on a blue field, the other a black banner with what looked like an onion in its center. Ser Davos noticed her looking up at them.

"The codfish is for Ser Quincy Cox, lord of Saltpans. The black one is mine. The Onion Knight they call me," he told her.

"Why?" Arya asked and as they walked he told the tale of saving the King at the siege of Storm's End.

"And then your father came and lifted the siege and we were saved," Ser Davos finished as they reached the main doors of the keep.

"My father saved you?"

"Well, his army appeared on the field and Mace Tyrell quickly asked for terms. It was the last act of the rebellion."

Arya snorted. "You would think King Stannis would be more grateful."

Ser Davos was about to enter the keep but stopped and looked at her closely. "My lady, King Stannis may not be a grateful man at times, but he is wise and just and fair." He held up his left hand which Arya now saw had shortened fingers. "King Stannis knighted me for saving the garrison at Storm's End. And he cut my fingers off for all my years as a smuggler. That may seem cruel to most but I did break the law and was justly punished for it."

"That was not justice." Gendry said.

"Many would agree," Ser Davos replied. "But know that King Stannis will treat you in the same manner, weighing all matters before making a decision." He looked back at Arya. "When the King found out from your father that Robert's son was taken and you missing, he had no room in his heart for pity and told the red woman to do as she must. She swiftly left his camp to come here to meet the ship. But with the victory on the Trident, temporary as it may be, the King has had a change of heart. He has ordered your man here to be held in Saltpans…for now."

"I don't understand," she replied. "I thought the King wants to kill him."

Ser Davos looked at her, and his eyes softened and were full of pity. "Not now. Take solace in that."

"But…what is to happen?"

"That is not for me to say."

"Tell me…please."

"That decision is the King's."

"Is he here?"

"No…but she is. So mind your tongue and let me do the talking. And for gods' sake don't do anything rash."

He walked on to the keep's main doors then and soon they were inside. They were led to a doorway where two guards stood. They took one look at Arya's sword and demanded she hand it over. Ser Davos gave her a slight nod and she did so, once more feeling naked without her blade at her side.

The room was long but not wide and had a large table in the center, with a large hearth nearby and a massive codfish over the mantelpiece. Sitting at the table was a woman, with Ser Axell standing behind and to the left side of her. She was dressed in red and had red hair and a heart shaped face. Arya would have said she was beautiful if she didn't know who she was and what she wanted to do to her husband. Her eyes were the strangest thing, appearing to be glowing red. Maybe it was just the fire light from the hearth, she thought. The room was oppressively hot, which at first was pleasant after the chill of the outdoors, but soon Arya wanted to strip off her furs and boots.

The woman stood. "I am the Lady Melisandre of Asshai," she said. "Advisor to King Stannis."

"Lady Arya Stark and Ser Gendry of Winterfell, my lady," Ser Davos said. "Husband and wife."

Ser Axell snorted. "Married before a tree. That is no wedding."

Melisandre ignored his comment. "Do you love each other?" she asked. Her voice sounded warm and pleasant and Arya replied without thinking.

"We do."

"Then it matters not how you were married," the red woman said. She walked around the table and looked closely at Arya and she could feel the heat coming off her. Then the red woman's gaze shifted to Gendry.

"Yes…I can see the King's blood in your face…and body."

Arya couldn't stand it anymore. "Why do you want him? Please…tell me."

"Take solace, Lady Stark," the red woman said. "He is to be a great hero in this struggle against the Great Other."

"That is for the King to decide," Ser Davos said swiftly.

Ser Axell glared at him and then looked to the red woman. "We should sail…now."

"Try it and I will sink that ship and all on board her," Ser Davos growled and Arya felt a thrill knowing someone was finally on her side.

"You dare to threaten the lady?" Ser Axell shouted.

"It was no threat. I am merely following the King's orders."

Melisandre only stared at Ser Davos. "No, Ser Davos is not the instrument of my death. He is only doing his King's bidding, as he said, as he always does. Not to worry, Ser Davos. I have sent word to the King that the boy has arrived. I only wait word on his final decision."

"You can't!" Arya shouted at her. "He's…he's all I have."

"Be thankful you are not joining him," Ser Axell snarled at Arya.

"Harm her in any way and you will die," Ser Davos said with strength in his tone. "If not by my hand then I am sure ten thousand Northmen will line up for the task."

Ser Axell only glared at Ser Davos. Then Arya heard a quiet voice.

"Why?" Gendry asked. "Why must I die?"

Melisandre looked closely at him. "You have the blood of a king. I need this blood."

Gendry pulled back the sleeve of his fur coat from his left forearm and thrust it out toward her. "Then take it! Take what you need. But for gods' sake let us go in peace."

"I need it all," she said and then she turned away and with a wave of her hand dismissed them. "Put him in a cell," she said to the soldiers and they seized his arms.

"Wait! Why?" Arya asked again. "Why does he have to die?"

"So we can be saved!" Ser Axell almost yelled. "We cannot stop these ice demons with steel! We need fire! Dragonfire!"

"Dragonfire?" Arya asked in puzzlement.

"Enough," the red woman said. "Take him away."

Gendry was dragged away and Arya struggled to hold her tears back. "I love you," she said as he left and he shouted out the same before the doors closed and she saw him no more. She wanted to run after him but Ser Davos put a strong hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

Now Arya felt her heart breaking again but in its place was anger, so much anger she had never known in her life. She glared at the red woman and wanted nothing more than to leap across the table and throttled her. The red woman knew this as well.

"You want to kill me," she said as she sat again.

"I do," Arya admitted, her breath coming in ragged gasps now.

"Treason!" Ser Axell said with a smirk. "You will forfeit your life. Ser Davos you heard her. She threaten the Lady Melisandre."

"I heard nothing," Ser Davos said.

"She threatened to kill Lady Melisandre!" Ser Axell repeated, his eyes bulging.

"No, she didn't" said Melisandre. "She only told the truth. But the Lady Arya will not kill me. She I have not seen in my flames."

Arya did not know what she meant but had no time to figure it out. She needed to do something and fast. She decided to try a new tactic. "I want to see the King," she finally said.

"He is not here," Ser Axell replied.

"Then take me to him!"

Ser Axell ignored her request. "Take her away…Lord Hand."

"Come, my lady, there is naught we can do for now," Ser Davos said and Arya let herself be taken from the room.

"Give me Needle," she said to the guard who had taken her sword. It was on his belt now.

"By order of Ser Axell no strangers are to have any weapons in the keep."

"She is not staying here. She is staying on my ship," Ser Davos explained.

The guard returned Needle to her and soon they were outside again. "I want to stay with him," Arya said.

"They won't allow it. Ser Axell told her what the captain did on the ship and he is lucky he is not a prisoner as well."

"Who is she? Why does everyone listen to her?"

"She is the red woman," Ser Davos told her, as if that explained everything. "And she is powerful, do not doubt it."

"Why does she want him?"

Ser Davos sighed. "It's madness, all of it."

"Tell me."

"Come, let us get some food. For the sake of your father and all he has done for the realm I will tell you all. And then we will see what we can do."

They went to the longest wharf and went on board the biggest ship tied up there. Soon they were in a large cabin and a cook served them pork and potatoes and pease, with bread and ale. Arya hardly felt like eating but drank her ale down in one gulp and refilled her mug.

"Go easy," Ser Davos said.

"Tell me it all," she said again, feeling slightly heady from the ale.

He put down his knife and fork and looked at her steadily. "Do you know the island of Dragonstone?"

"Yes…it's King Stannis' home." That much she remembered from her geography lesions with Maester Luwin.

Ser Davos snorted. "For now. Given to him by Robert after he took it from the Targaryens. Stannis never liked it, claimed that Storm's End should have been his by rights as second brother and defender of Storm's End. But Robert saw things differently. Renly got the prize and Stannis got the dreary island of Dragonstone."

"What has this to do with Gendry?"

"Captain Inesto's ship has orders to sail for Dragonstone immediately word comes from King Stannis. With your husband and the red woman on board."

Gods, no. "Why Dragonstone?" she asked to cover her fears.

"There in the great castle is a stone dragon, built into the very stone of the castle itself. She believes that the blood of your husband will awaken this dragon and hence save all of Westeros from the ice demons."

Arya was stunned by this revelation. "That's…that's…impossible!"

"Maybe so, but she believes in it so strongly that she will kill your husband or any more of King Robert's children to raise the stone dragon."

Arya gasped. "I have to save him!"

She stood and would have dashed out except Ser Davos was quicker and blocked the doorway. "You cannot save him. Only the King can. They will kill you if you interfere anymore."

Arya felt deflated and soon returned to her seat and he sat as well. "It's not fair," she said in a quiet voice.

"Aye…it's not. I argued against this. The King said what is the life of one boy compared to the thousands of lives he will save with his blood."

"The King believes she can raise the dragon?"

"He is…uncertain of that. But if we had a dragon we could surely defeat the Others."

"I am a Stark and I know my history. Brandon the Builder and the Prince had no dragons when they defeated the Others."

"Aye," he said and then his eyes narrowed. "The Prince…we have heard he is reborn. Your brother."

"Who told you that?" Arya asked sharply.

"That matters not. Is it true?"

"Yes…Jon also found Lightbringer."

"Jon? Not Bran?"

"Bran? No...wait…you didn't know!" Now she was mad for she had said too much.

"Jon…Snow? Your half-brother?"

"I…I have said too much."

"But Lightbringer. He truly has it? Where is he now?"

She remained silent and lowered her eyes to her plate.

"As you wish," he replied and then stood and drained his cup of ale. "I will show you your cabin. Then I must go into the town and take care of some matters. Do not wander. And do not go near the keep. Those men who are with the red woman. They are devoted to her and her god. Do not try them or they may forget who you are."

"You are not devoted to her god, are you?"

He snorted. "No. I will say no more. Come."

The cabin was small but cozy and much like the one she had on Inesto's ship. After a short time she got bored and went up on deck just in time for sunset and the darkness of night begin. But she didn't really see the sun end its day as the sky was overcast with a hint of snow in the air.

She stepped on the wharf and looked across the ships and water at the keep and decided she could not wait any longer. With purposeful strides she started that way. Suddenly a man stepped out from the shadows behind some barrels and crates. She pulled Needle out and had it in front of her quickly.

"Do not be so hasty…Arya Stark," the man said in a voice that sent chills down her spine. She knew that voice, but it couldn't be him. In the growing darkness she soon saw it was Ser William Porte, the red-haired supply officer.

"Who are you? Really?" she said as she held up Needle, pointing it at his chest, right at the fiery sigil of the King.

The man waved a hand in front of his face and soon his features changed to the ones she was familiar with.

It was Jaqen H'ghar.

"Gods," she exclaimed as she sheathed Needle. "What are you doing here?"

"This man is a supply officer for King Stannis," he explained, as if that told her everything. He waved his hand again and he was the red-haired supply officer once more. "But where is this girl going now?"

"Trying to save her husband. The red woman wants to kill him."

"Do not go near that keep. Do not try to save him. They will kill you. You cannot save him…but I can."

"What? Why would you help me?"

"You helped me once."

"That debt was repaid you said."

"True…but this man is here on other business. Freeing your husband will be my gift to you."

Arya still didn't trust him. "Why? Why do you help me?"

He sighed. "Once…many years ago, before this man was as he is…this man had a sister. A girl, like you, young and full of life. One day…soldiers came, soldiers with a red fiery banner, with red priests, soldiers who attacked our village and killed many and raped many…my sister as well. They took many away as slaves, this man as well, and forced us to pray to their god. But this man escaped, and made his way to Braavos, and after many years became what he is now. But I never forgot the young girl, this man's sister, nor the ones who did her harm. You remind this man so strongly of his lost sister. For you and for this man's sister I will help you. Then you and your man can flee from this red witch. Come, we must do it now. Soon they will pray at their night fires and will be distracted."

"Yes," Arya said, full of excitement. "Let's go."

She cared not about what happened after, how they would get away, where they would go. She only had one thing on her mind, getting Gendry out of the keep. "Do you know where he is?"

"In the lowest levels, there is a small dungeon."

As they came off the wharf suddenly there was a shout from the tower of the keep and then a bell began to ring. Soon men were running from all over the town toward the town walls.

"What is it?" Arya asked.

"It must be an attack," Jaqen said and then Ser Davos came out of the keep, saw them and frown.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded of Arya.

"I…ah…"

"I was going to show the lady around the defenses," said Jaqen, now Ser William again in voice and manner.

"It appears we are being attacked," said Ser Davos, worry in his tone.

"By who?" she asked and then came a shout from the tower

"IT'S THEM! THE OTHERS!"

"Lady Stark, return to my ship," Ser Davos told her at once.

"I can fight! I know how to fight the Others. Do you?"

He hesitated and then grunted. "Come!"

They raced through the town, Arya following Ser Davos, and then she realized Jaqen was not with her. She had no time to sort that out as she joined the ranks of men moving to the walls. As she raced by two catapults, they sprang into action and barrels of something were flung over the wall. Moments later she saw archers shoot fire arrows and a big ball of flame came from the far side. Soon they were at the wall.

"Gods…its wood!' Arya said in surprise.

"It will hold them," shouted a big man dressed in sailor's garb.

Up on a rough parapet men were firing arrows and throwing stones and Arya heard the screams and cries of wights getting hit and the screeches of Others shouting commands. She fought her way to a ladder and soon was up and standing where Ser Davos already was.

Out in front of the town was a large ragged horde of wights with about ten Others on horseback behind them. In the light of the flaming oil Arya could see them coming closer, moving in with their slow shuffling pace. She saw on many wights the surcoats and sigils of men of Westeros, now dead and raised again. They all had armor and carried good steel weapons.

"This is no ragged band of wights!" shouted a big man on the left.

"Valyrian steel will kill them. Or dragonglass. Do you have any?" Arya asked.

"Aye," said Ser Davos. He turned to a young man. "Allard, dragonglass arrows for the Others."

The young man shouted a command and soon arrows were streaking towards the tall pale Others. Two were hit and turned into snow and ice. But then it began to snow and soon down on their heads came a sheet of whiteness which they could barely see through.

And then she was there, standing further down on the parapet to Arya's right and the red woman was chanting in a strange voice. Suddenly flames came from the ground in front of the wall and spread out. Wights were caught in the flames and shrieked and screamed and twisted and died again on the snowy ground.

At this point the battle might have gone their way but for an accident of war, one of those small things that change the fortunes of men and kingdoms. A rope on a catapult was worn and when the men were tightening the ropes for one more shot the rope snapped and released the catapult and its cargo of oil too soon. The catapult arm had only been halfway back and so the barrel went only a short distance. But it had the misfortune to land just over the wall where the red lady's flames were still burning. The oil barrel broke and oil splashed over the snow and over the wooden wall. In a mere moment all was ablaze and the flames licked up the wall and began to burn it. In the chaos that followed some men burned as well as they tried to put out the flames. Soon a wide section of the wall was burning and the men had to retreat from its heat.

"It's no good," shouted a big man with a codfish as his sigil. "Ser Davos, the town will fall!"

"Not if we fight Ser Quincy! They fear fire, they won't cross the flames!"

"The men are already running!" Ser Quincy shouted back.

It was true. Behind them a horde of men was fleeing from the wall, through the town, heading to the wharves and the ships there. Panic had set in.

"We must stop them!" Ser Davos shouted. He managed to from a ragged line of fighting men, mostly sailors, but it was too late. All was in disorder. The wall began to fall down as it burned and soon the first wights were through. Some men fought and many died but many more ran and then a large section of wall collapsed and a horde of wights came through.

"My lady it is time to go," Ser Davos told her as the ranks began to crumble. And then Arya Stark ran.

But not for the ships. She ran for the keep. She had to find him.

All was chaos here as well. Many men and woman were escaping toward the wharves. In the harbor many small boats were putting in toward shore to gather people and take them out to the ships. In their panic men splashed into the cold water and she saw one boat overwhelmed and capsize.

Arya had no time for this. She raced into the keep and looked for a way down to the dungeons. Soon she found a set of stone steps leading down. When she got there she saw a scene of horror.

There was a small corridor and in it were two dead men, with their throats slit, bleeding out their life blood on the stone floor. There were three cells and each door was open and they were empty. Arya turned to leave and then heard a snarl behind her.

"YOU!" Ser Axell shouted. "I knew I should have thrown you off that ship. Now you will die. This is high treason."

Arya did not think twice. She pulled out Needle and tried to stab him in the stomach. But he was wearing chain mail under his surcoat and her sword thrust was blocked. He slapped her with the back of his hand and the blow shocked her senseless. She was flung back and landed on one of the dead guards.

Now he had a sword in his hand. "In the name of King Stannis Baratheon, the First of his Name, I accuse you of high treason and condemn you to death, Lady Arya Stark of Winterfe….aggggrrrrrrr!

His last word was a scream and then his back arched and his mouth spewed out blood. Behind him Gendry thrust the sword deep into his back and then pulled it out. Ser Axell fell to the floor and gasped and then was dead.

Arya scrambled up and Gendry stuck out a hand and help her up. "Time to go!" he said and she wanted to weep and hug him but there was no time.

"Where's Jaqen?" she asked as they ran upstairs.

"Getting a boat for us…I saw you come here."

They were soon on the upper level and then raced to the keep's main doors. As they ran outside Arya thought she had done it, had finally saved him…but then it all fell to pieces.

The red woman was there, with at least ten men, all armed and armored. Behind them the scene was still chaotic as people ran for the shore and the ships. The town was burning, and it was still snowing, giving the whole scene an eerie glow.

"Take them," she said and her men moved to grab them.

"No!" Gendry shouted, brandishing his sword. "If we are to die, we will die here! As we wish!"

Arya was ready. If she was to die, she would die with him at her side. She looked at the red woman and was about to leap at her. But they had not seen the soldiers come up behind them. One knocked Gendry senseless with one blow and the other grabbed Arya's arm and pulled Needle from her hand, and thrust it in his sword belt.

"NO!" Arya shouted and she was dragged away, as Gendry was picked up and dragged behind her as the red woman shouted for them to make for the wharves.

They moved to the wharves and in the chaos her men had to push and shove and even kill some people to make a path. They were soon at Ser Davos' ship where he and his crew were busy trying to help people on board. Her men once more forced a way for them to get on board.

"Ser Davos, we sail immediately," said the red woman as they came on board. Arya was shoved down on the deck and Gendry was thrown down beside her. She moved to him and cradled his head and Ser Davos stared at them, and then he looked back to the red woman.

"We must help these people get onboard first."

"No, we must sail," Melisandre told him. "We have enough on this ship already. Saltpans is lost."

"And the King?" Ser Davos asked.

"The King still has his army."

"The town is lost and so are all the stores we brought here. An army with no supplies will not last long."

"Then we must make haste," she said.

"Where to?" he asked and Arya knew he already knew the answer.

"Dragonstone," she replied. "When you drop me off you can load your ships again and return to supply the King."

"That may take a fortnight or more."

"Then you had best hurry, hadn't you?"

After a moment of hesitation, Ser Davos gave the orders. Soon the lines were cast and the ship pushed off the wharf.

"Where is Ser Axell, my lady?" one of the red woman's men asked.

"The Lord of Light will see him safe on board another ship," she said and Arya would have laughed had not her predicament been so dire.

Then as the gap between ship and wharf widened came a running figure on the wharf, shoving past the people still there who were calling for help. He jumped up on a crate and then leaped and landed just over the railing.

As he stood up, Ser Davos looked at the man. "Ser William, good. We need every good man we can now."

Ser William dipped his head. "Of course, Lord Hand. I would not have missed this ship for anything."

With that he looked down at Arya and winked slightly, and Arya felt as if things might turn out right after all.


	3. Chapter 3 Eddard

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 3 Chapter 3 Eddard**

"But why do all three of you have to go in the same ship?" Catelyn Stark asked of her husband as she helped him pack his bags for the journey south.

Lord Eddard Stark was standing by his bed in their quarters in White Harbor, wondering just how much clothing he would need. He was going into battle, not to a royal court party, so he took practical clothing, but of the best quality for he might have to dine with the King and some other lords. He had to make sure he took a fur hat, for certain, as his shaved head was still mostly bare on one side where they had cut open his head. He still had a bandage around his head, and the wounded area was covered, so the hat would ensure few people saw his injury. The skin had grown over the wound but it would take time to be fully healed. But time he did not have. There were things to do, so he must go while he was still not fully healed.

They were leaving in less than an hour, when the tide would be running out of White Harbor on this cold, cloudy, dark and dreary day. Lord Manderly's biggest and best war galley was waiting for him and Robb and Sansa at the docks. Four ships were leaving in all, four ships with close to a thousand men, sailors and soldiers, going to Saltpans to find the King and the war. It been almost two weeks since Arya had disappeared and one day since Ned had received an answer from Stannis saying he was on the Trident preparing for war with the Others and asking for reinforcements from the North. He had also said that he needed Gendry to win the war but would not say why. Since then no news had come from the south.

Ned looked at his wife and saw the fear in her eyes. She feared if their ship sank she would lose a husband, a son, and a daughter in one instant. "If we are on three different ships, the greater the chance one of us might drown," he had told her, but she failed to see the logic of his argument and only saw the ones she loved drowning in the cold cruel sea.

"We sail together or not all," he said to her once more.

She grasped at his words. "Then stay."

"You know I can't. Arya is out there somewhere. You would have me abandon our daughter?"

"She is alive. Sansa sees her eyes in Nymeria."

"Not often and not of late. And maybe Sansa is just wishing it to be so. We must find her."

Catelyn sat on the bed and her body seemed to sag. "Everyone is leaving me. First Bran, then Arya, now you three…"

He sat next to her and held her hand. "I am sorry. But you and Rickon must stay here. I cannot ask you to come with me in your condition and I cannot put Rickon in danger again."

"Danger?" she said with a scoffing sound. "There is just as much danger here."

"You are behind high walls with many men to protect you."

"As we were at Winterfell."

"We were surrounded at Winterfell. Here…there is always the sea."

"I'd still rather have you here."

"I know."

Then a knock came to the door. It was Robb. "Father…Mother…Sansa and I are ready."

"Give us a moment," he told his eldest son and Robb left them.

Catelyn took a deep breath and stood and so did Ned. "I must be strong," she said. She started to move to the door and stopped. "When Gendry went to the Wall I told Arya not to cry in front of him. To send him away with a strong heart and mind. How often I had to do that for you and later Robb as well. But now…I do not know if I can be strong."

And then she did cry and he held her close and let her sob for a while. Finally she stopped and wiped her eyes. "I am sorry. I am ready now. Let us go," she said.

Down they went to the main entrance hall of White Harbor's castle, with two servants carrying Ned's baggage. He had a bag of his own clothing and another with some of Arya's things she had left behind, including her direwolf helmet. He also had a servant carrying his suit of chain mail and a proper war helmet. Strapped to his waist were his dagger and his common sword, while Ice was on his back. Ned felt good, stronger than he had since his injury, but a weakness was still there and he found walking with the heavy weapons difficult. And sometimes waves of dizziness came over him and if he stood too quickly or dipped his head and raised it up again he felt as if his brain was about to fly out of his head. He still used the walking stick and as they came down the stairs Catelyn hovered very close to him.

By the outer doors stood Robb and Sansa, Robb talking to his wife Roslin and Sansa talking to Maester William. Both his children were dressed for traveling, wearing warm winter clothing with cloaks around their shoulders. Dresses would not do for this journey he had told Sansa and she had put on riding breeches, high leather boots, and warm woolen shirts and a fur overcoat, gloves, and hat. She even had a dagger at her belt and Ned found it so odd that he wondered why he never thought the same when Arya carried weapons. As he approached them he overheard Maester William's words to her.

"Don't let him do too much. Make sure he gets enough sleep. And food."

"Yes, maester," Sansa said. "What about ale or wine?"

"As much as he likes," Ned answered and Sansa turned and blushed and Maester William laughed a bit but then turned serious.

"No, Lord Stark, I am afraid you will have to stick to water, lemon water if you can get it, for lemons have some healing power in them. Ale and wine will not do for a while yet."

Ned reluctantly nodded. "Aye, as you say maester."

Outside they found people waiting, including Rickon who was playing with the direwolves. Together they walked to the docks, with Grey Wind at Robb's side, followed by Rickon and Shaggy, with Nymeria following them all. Once they reached the docks came the hard part. Many people of White Harbor were there to say goodbye to their kin going south on the ships. Lord Manderly and his first son Ser Wylis were there as well, saying goodbye to his soldiers and sailors and most of all his second son, Ser Wendel, who was going south as well, leading a force of a few hundred White Harbor men.

Much food was being loaded on board, enough for the men and crews, with some to spare for Stannis' army if, when, they found it. The Lord of White Harbor promised to send more ships with supplies when he got word that Ned and his ships had arrived safe at Saltpans. Ned also ordered a chest of gold and one of silver he had taken from Winterfell to be put on board his ship. Coin they might need to buy food and swords and he felt better having it for any future problems. Even with death staring all of Westeros in the face men would still want money for goods and services.

Mance Rayder came to give his goodbyes as well. "Lord Stark," he said as he stuck out his hand which Ned shook. "We started as enemies and I dare say we are parting as friends."

Ned grinned. "I think we can agree on that much." Then his grim demander came over him. "Look for Lord Bolton and Lord Umber to return and ask them to join me in the south if possible. I would ask you to come as well but you are under no obligation to follow my orders. If you stay, then know that White Harbor may be the last bastion left in the North. Mayhaps it is best that you do stay. I trust you and your people to look after the town and my family that remain behind."

"And I trust there will be a settling of accounts once the wars are done."

"Meaning?" Ned asked, a bit suspicious. What did the man want now?

"Meaning me and mine will not be treated like outcasts and will be given a place in the North."

Ned could agree on that much at least. "Aye, it will be so. You have mine and my sons' words on that."

Mance nodded. "Very well. May the gods old and new show you the way to victory."

More goodbyes were then made, to Ser Denys and Maester Aemon, to Thoros of Myr and Osha, and to Hot Pie, who asked him to help bring Arry and the Bull home. More goodbyes were made to Lord Manderly, and finally to his wife and youngest son.

"You be sure to protect your mother," he said to Rickon.

"Aye, Father," Rickon replied, trying to be serious. "Does this mean I am the Lord of Winterfell now?"

Robb had overheard them. "No, we are not in Winterfell now. It…"

"It does," Ned interjected. "Your brother means you are not in Winterfell now so you must obey Lord Manderly's orders. But you are now Lord of Winterfell."

"At least till they come back," said Catelyn with a knowing look to her husband.

"Aye," he said.

"Good," Rickon replied. "Now the Walders must obey my orders!" And Ned had to laugh at that.

Finally came the hard goodbyes. Most of the men were on board now and Robb sent Grey Wind on board. Nymeria and Shaggy Dog tried to follow but Rickon hugged Shaggy and held him back. "NO!" he said sharply. "Your mine! Stay!" and Shaggy whined but did not move.

Nymeria, on the other hand, eagerly jumped on board the ship and startled some crewmen.

Ned was about to say to Robb to get her off but then he thought no, we should take her with us, for Arya. "Let her be," he commanded the sailors and soon Nymeria and Grey Wind were sitting side by side as the sailors looked at them with some trepidation.

Now it was really time to say goodbye. Robb gave his wife one last long hug and kiss. She was surely showing her condition now and Robb pressed a hand on her belly as Roslin fought to control her tears. Sansa also put on brave face but Ned could tell she wanted cry as she said goodbye to her mother. As she stepped on board the ship Sansa's eyes were shining and her cheeks were red.

"She will be fine," Ned told Cat as they hugged goodbye.

"It's not too late…she can still stay. Your condition is not so bad now."

"Aye?" he replied as he held up his walking stick. "And who was behind me the whole time I came down the stairs? Besides, she is a healer now and they will need her on the battlefields."

"Then take Maester William. He has more experience."

"His place is here, Cat. I cannot take such an experienced man, perhaps the only one in all of White Harbor who can help save people." The old maester who served Lord Manderly was good for nothing much except writing letters, listening to and making gossip, and filling his coffers with ill gotten gains. Ned had tried to speak to the lord of such but Lord Wyman would hear nothing of it so Ned let the matter go. And then there was the other matter. "Soon you and Roslin will give birth and I want William to be by your bedsides."

"Yes, I suppose you are right,," she reluctantly agreed to his comments. "Bring them home, my love, bring them all home."

"I will find Arya, I promise you."

"And Gendry. He is her husband now. He is family, too," she said and now her eyes turned hard. "You tell that man who calls himself King that if any harm comes to either of them he will never be able to set foot in the North or get one man for his wars as long as Starks rule the North."

"I will tell him," Ned said and he would, feeling the same as his wife. Bring them home, all of them, he promised her, and at that moment Ned recalled his dream where Jon and all his children, even his unborn son, stood over his grave in the crypts of Winterfell. All except Bran…but he would never tell her that.

Then came a shout from the ship's captain that they had to sail soon to catch the tide. Catelyn pressed a letter into his hand, for her brother Edmure she said, and then last hugs and kisses were made, last words of love spoken, and then Robb and Ned stepped on board the ship. Ned needed a hand from his son to do so. Ned felt embarrassed at his weakness and many on ship and dock had seen him falter, and he saw what he thought was pity in their eyes. But then he knew what it was. He knew it was not pity, but love, for him and his family, and the looks were looks of concern, of worry, of caring, for him and his, and knowing that in that instant almost unmanned him but he kept his composure. Two sailors came and dipped their heads and took his bags and armor to his cabin. Then on the flagstaff at the stern a flag was run up and beside the merman banner of White Harbor now fluttered the grey direwolf of Winterfell.

He saw that Sansa was on the verge of a breakdown and he quickly took her hand and held it tight. "Be brave," Ned whispered to her as they stood and looked back at Cat and Roslin and Rickon and many others receding behind them as the ship slowly drifted on the outgoing tide toward the harbor entrance. The oars were shipped out and soon began their rhythmic stroking, slowly now, while still in harbor. Sansa sniffed and he looked at her, and her eyes were shining with emotion. "Come, let us find our berths," he said at last.

As the paramount lord of the North, Ned had been given the biggest and best cabin. Robb would sleep in his own cabin with Grey Wind on the floor, and Nymeria now as well, but Ned insisted that Sansa bunk with him. A woman on a ship was always looked on with superstition by most sailors, and despite her being a lord's daughter and the respect most in the North held for him and his family he did not trust them so far as her virtue was concerned. He asked that another bed be put in the cabin and it was done.

The ship was called the _Merman's Lady_ and it had an exquisite carving of a mermaid on the bow. It was Lord Manderly's flagship and they soon discovered that the main cabin in the stern had been special built for Lord Manderly, whose enormous girth required special furniture and an enormous bed. A large table with large chairs was present as well, as was a special wide privy closet with a solid oak bench and a porcelain toilet seat over an enormous chamber pot. Book shelves with many volumes were on the walls, and a large cabinet and a massive dresser for clothing were also present. For light they had candles in holders, some whale oil lamps, and four large windows in the stern of the ship.

"He likes his comfort," Robb said as they took in the cabin.

Sansa sat on a chair and two more girls of her size could have fit comfortable beside her. "Why is he so fat?" she asked and her father and brother laughed.

"He wasn't always so," Ned told them as he sat on the big bed, which was so comfortable he felt like leaning back and drifting off to sleep. "At the Trident he rode by my side and he slew two Dornish knights in the attack that broke their ranks."

"Dorne was on the side of the Mad King?" Sansa asked as she stood and began to open her bag and put away her clothing in a dresser.

"They were," said Robb as he scratched Grey Wind's ear while the direwolf sat on the floor next to Nymeria. "Maester Luwin said that Dorne supported the Targaryens because Elia of Dorne was Rhaegar's wife."

"All true," Ned told them. "Dorne stood strong for the Mad King."

"Did they know what Prince Rhaegar had done?" Sansa asked. "I mean…that he didn't love his wife, that he loved Aunt Lyanna. And…and she was with his child?"

"No…not until later, and never a word did anyone know about Jon," Ned told her. "The Kingsguard who guarded the Tower of Joy knew, but they would never have betrayed his secrets. And then they died." His voice trailed off after he said that and he grew a bit melancholy, thinking on those brave men he had to kill, and the brave friends he had lost, but then he quickly recovered and continued the tale. "In the months after the war Jon Arryn went to Dorne to bring home the bones of Elia and her children. He told me when he returned how angry they were, how much they didn't care for his explanations, especially Oberyn Martell, Elia's brother. But her older brother Doran, the Prince of Dorne then and now, he was calm and courteous, and treated Jon Arryn with respect. Yet Robert never set foot in Dorne in all his years as King."

"He feared assassins?" Robb asked.

"No, he feared no assassins," Ned answered. "I am sure the Red Viper wanted to do as much, but his brother most likely talked him out of it. Prince Doran is no fool. He knew that if the Dornish had tried such the rest of the realm would have buried them…or at least would have tried to do so. Robert even thought once to invade and get it done with but Jon Arryn talked him out of it. Other kings had tried that in the past and rivers of blood had been spilt for no good reason or result."

"We could surely use them now," Robb said.

"That we could…and the Vale as well," Ned thought. "Gulltown is on the way to Saltpans."

"It is," Robb answered.

"We could stop and get some news…and see if we can recruit any men."

"It might be worth a try," Robb replied.

"But…" Sansa began. "Oh, nevermind."

"What is it daughter?" Ned asked her.

"Arya…we shouldn't waste any time."

"I understand…but you said she was still alive. You saw her in Nymeria."

"I did," Sansa said and she looked at Nymeria on the floor. "Arya is alive, she's out there. We must find her."

"They will not harm her," Robb insisted. "They would be fools to do so."

"They will harm Gendry," Sansa said, worry in her tone.

"Aye," said Ned thoughtfully. "Perhaps Gulltown is not a good idea after all. Yes, we must make all haste to Saltpans."

"Do we even know that was where that ship was heading?" Robb asked.

"No," Ned replied. "But I must get information. And the King needs these men and supplies. And remember that Stannis wanted Gendry brought to him in chains. We must believe Ser Axell took him and Arya to see Stannis at Saltpans or the Ruby Ford."

"Dragonstone," Robb said suddenly, as if he remembered. "Ser Axell said that King Stannis wanted all of Robert's bastards brought to Dragonstone."

"Dragonstone," Ned repeated. "But…the King was at the Ruby Ford, or maybe Saltpans. We must believe the red woman was with him as well."

"That letter is almost a week old," Robb reminded him.

"Arya's been gone almost two weeks," Sansa added.

Now they faced a dilemma. "If we go to Saltpans and she is at Dragonstone," Robb said, voicing Ned's fears. "We may be too late."

"And if they are at Dragonstone what can we do?" Ned countered, seeing it more clearly now. "And if Stannis is not there and the red woman is, would she listen to our demands? I think not. We cannot assail the castle. That would be treason. No, we must find Stannis, I must talk reason to him, must make him release Gendry and Arya."

And so it was decided and seven days later, after having some favorable winds, and only a few days of rough weather, for which all praised the gods for looking on them with favor, they came to Saltpans. But they did not find what they hoped to find.

In the light of a morning sun peeking through the clouds, they could see from a distance that the harbor was empty and no ships were berthed at the wharves except what looked like two large river barges and one smaller longboat. As they came closer, the sailors pulling hard on their oars to counter the current from the Trident's outflow, they could see the town was mostly destroyed. Only a few buildings and the town's stone keep were somewhat intact. The rest was piles of ashes and ruins among fresh fallen snow. Above the keep flew two banners, one a silver codfish on blue, the other an onion on black. Ned took that as a good sign. He did not know the codfish but the onion was surely the King's man Ser Davos' banner. A few people were there, moving about the ruins and it looked like they were searching for something. Then Sansa gave a gasp.

"It's Sandor Clegane," she said in a hushed tone.

There, on the end of the longest wharf, stood the unmistakable figure of the Hound, tall and brutishly large, his scarred face easy to see even from this distance. He was staring out at them, looking them over, and then he gave some orders to some men and they and the Hound went down a rope ladder to a longboat and were soon pulling towards the _Merman's Lady_. Ned told the captain to drop anchor and as soon as they did the other three ships in their little fleet did as well.

The Hound was no friend of Ned Stark. He had been present in the throne room in the Red Keep when Ned had confronted Joffrey and Cersei and the Hound had helped kill some of his household. And Arya hated him with a passion for killing her friend. But he had helped save Sansa as well, so there was that to consider. Ned also wondered why the Hound was here. The last they had heard he was Myrcella's shield, a member of the Kingsguard. Ned could only conclude that he was part of the Lannister army.

A short time later the Hound was climbing up a rope ladder on the side of the _Merman's Lady_ and clambered on board, arrayed in chain mail and with his weapons all about him. He took in the scene, looked at Ned and Robb and then when his eyes fell on Sansa they stopped and a look of pure astonishment came over him. Then he quickly looked away from her and back to Ned.

"Lord Stark...welcome to Saltpans…or what's left of it at least."

"Aye…what happened here?"

"The Others attacked them six days past, and someone fuc…screwed up. The wooden palisade burned and then panic set in and the rest fled on ships. We had the story two days later from someone who got away and ran all the way to the Ruby Ford."

"Where is the King now?" Robb asked.

"Still at the ford, with the rest of the armies. They hit Riverrun as well and killed many but couldn't take the castle so they left it and started to head west, killing as they went. Ser Jaime, Lord Edmure Tully, and the Blackfish went after them with most of the cavalry. I was sent here by the Imp to find survivors and any supplies and see if we can use it as a base again."

Then Sansa spoke up, her voice a squeak. "Sandor, have you seen my sister, Arya?"

"The she wolf?" he asked, his tone rough, his eyes not looking at her. "No, she's not here."

Ned stepped toward him, leaning on his walking stick. "What have you heard of the red woman and a boy named Gendry?"

"She's gone to Dragonstone with Ser Davos and the rest of the fleet to get more supplies."

Dragonstone. It was as they feared.

"Was there a blacksmith…you must remember him, Sandor," Sansa pleaded. "At Harrenhal, you mistook him for a stable boy."

"Aye, I remember," the Hound told them, his eyes finally shifting to her. Then somehow his face turned a bit softer. "Gendry, aye, that's his name. There has been talk of him. The Imp was in his cups and said something. He thinks the red woman has him, and means to burn him on Dragonstone."

Sansa let out a gasp and Ned's body sagged, fearing the worst. "When did they leave? How long ago?"

"Six days…when the Others attacked."

"Arya must be with him," Robb said in worry.

Either that or she was in the town among the ashes…or worse, Ned thought. "Come, let us go ashore and see what is what."

"There is nothing to see, Lord Stark," Clegane told him.

"I must see the King!" Ned almost shouted and his head hurt as he did so and he leaned on his stick. Sansa was at his side quickly.

"Father, you must be careful," she said.

"What's wrong with him?" the Hound asked her.

"His head…a giant wight hit him. He almost died," she explained.

A sailor rolled an upright keg over to them and Ned sat on it and caught his breath and looked up at the Hound. "My daughter Arya was with the blacksmith. She may have been in the town or on the ships."

"I don't know," the Hound replied. "But some people are in the keep, survivors. They might know."

So to shore they went, the _Merman's Lady_ docking at the long wharf while the other ships remained in the harbor. Ser Wendel came with them and soon they were in the remains of the town and entered the keep. Its doors were broken and there were still traces of blood on the floors inside.

The Hound introduced them to three people, an old man, a woman, and a young boy, all who remained hidden during the attack and managed to live to tell their tales. After questioning them they got the answers they wanted. The woman was a servant for the Cox family, lords of Saltpans, and she had seen Arya in the keep.

"Taken in to see the red woman she was, her and the big fellow and Ser Davos. That was about an hour before the attack. I can't recall seeing her after."

"I did," said the old man. "I was in the tower up above, ringing the bells warning of the attack. Stayed up there and saw it all. Hid for two days till the demons left. That red woman, she took the girl and the big fellow to the ships. They was fighting and they knocked him out. Had to drag him away."

Afterwards as they stood outside in the cold Robb asked Ned what they could do. "We'd never make it to Dragonstone in time," Ned told him. "We must see the King and hopefully a raven message can get to Dragonstone in time to stop her."

The Hound had the two barges for bringing any supplies or people back up the Trident but he had found little and the base was useless now, so he ordered his men and the three survivors back in the barges. Ned, Robb, Sansa, and Ser Wendel came as well, as did Nymeria and Grey Wind, to the discomfort of the rowers on their barge. Ned ordered the White Harbor ships to remain behind, but first he took some supplies off of them and loaded them in the second barge.

The rowers had a hard time pulling up into the mouth of the Trident and it took many hours of rowing to go even a short distance. Sansa and Ned sat in the stern near the man who piloted the barge with a tiller, while the rowers sat facing them pulling on their long oars. Robb and the Hound took turns on the oars as well, sitting side by side, and even Ser Wendel had a go, though he said it was not the work a knight nor a lord's son should do.

That was a mistake. The Hound growled at him. "Swim if you don't like it."

Sansa laughed a bit at that and Ser Wendel blushed slightly. "I'm just saying…"

"I know what you are saying," the Hound interrupted. "Knights? Good for nothing except talking about your rights."

"I thought your brother was a knight?" Ser Wendel retorted and both Ned and Sansa had tried to give him a warning look but he had missed it.

The Hound spat over the side as he pulled on the big oar. "That for all knights, especially my brother. I hope he is rotting in some burning hell."

Sansa's breath caught and she glanced at her father quickly and then away, her eyes boring into the Hound. He looked down and would not look her.

"Where is he?" Sansa asked in a quiet voice.

There was a long silence and finally came one word. "Dead."

Sansa gulped. "How?"

Now his head came up and he stared at her intently, his hideous face making him seem dangerous. But then his look changed and he shook his head. "You know I had to do it. You know why."

"Gods, no, Sandor," she said.

"You killed him?" Robb asked as he pulled on his oar.

"Yes, yes, fuckin' hell yes!" the Hound growled and then he stopped rowing and his breathing was ragged. After a moment he picked up his oar and began to row. Slowly in bits he explained it all, about Cersei and Tyrion, and how they were at each others' throats and he was caught in the middle. He gave few details of the fight except to say he had been wounded as well and near died.

Then he looked at Ned and he grinned, or at least half his face did. "I have Theon Greyjoy."

Ned felt a cold shudder go through him and Robb stopped rowing and looked with astonishment at the Hound. "What do you mean?" Robb swiftly asked.

"The North is always the last to know," the Hound replied as he pulled on his oar. "Get back to your rowing little Lord Stark or we'll never get there."

Robb looked angry but he started to row again and the Hound began to talk more. The whole story came out, about the Iron Fleet attacking them, about the battle, their escape, and the discovery of Theon and capturing him, then making their way to the Golden Tooth.

"Where is Theon now?" Ned asked him intently.

"At Riverrun in a cell."

"But…you said Riverrun was attacked," Robb said. "He could have been killed."

"They never took the castle. If you want Greyjoy I can get him for you. Then you can have your revenge."

Ned thought on this and knew Theon Greyjoy must be punished for his crimes against the North. "Aye. I will talk to Lord Edmure about him."

The Hound was about to say something else, but then he was silent.

"What news of the Iron Fleet now?" Ned asked him after a few moments.

"Gone after they burned the Rock and took all the gold."

Robb chuckled a bit. "So the Lannisters are poor, are they?"

Ned gave him an admonishing look. "We are all allies now. Their lack of wealth does us no good."

"Yes, Father," Robb replied, somewhat abashed.

"How is the coalition holding?" Ser Wendell asked the Hound from his nearby oar seat.

"Barely," the Hound grunted in reply. "No one trusts anyone else. Loras Tyrell got a stick up his arse so big he's lucky he can take a sh…nevermind. Him and that other fellow from the Vale, Cor…Corbray that's it, another fancy 'ser'. They almost came to blows and promised to fight each other once the war is done. Lord Yohn Royce and Ser Jaime promised the same."

Ned's breath caught. "Corbray? Royce? They are from the Vale."

"Aye. They have come down from their hills and their hiding places to lend a hand at last. Littlefinger the whoremaster is in charge." Then he laughed. "The Imp wants his head and so do you he tells me, but King Stannis won't let him, or you neither now I am sure. Though I suppose he is your kin now so maybe you don't want his head so much anymore."

"Lord Baelish is not our kin," Sansa said strongly.

"Again the North is the last to know," the Hound told them. "Baelish married your Aunt Lysa over two moon's ago. Or so he is telling us."

Gods, no, Ned thought. He did want Baelish's head, on a spike, rotting and with the flies and crows and maggots eating his flesh. "I must talk to Stannis," he said and then for a long time they talked with the Hound on the battles and any other news he had. The biggest surprise was that someone calling himself Aegon Targaryen was rampaging in the Stormlands. It could only be a pretender, they all agreed, but Ned worried on this, more war they would have to deal with when the Others were defeated. Ned had no doubts anyone calling himself a Targaryen would want his head as well as Stannis' and any Lannisters.

After a while chunks of ice began to come down the Trident, bumping into their barges. Then they began to feel an intense cold, worse than it had been near Saltpans.

"The cold is everywhere up in these parts," the man on the tiller told them. "The Ruby Ford was covered in ice when we left. Had to set off further downstream."

Soon they were too exhausted from rowing and put the barges ashore at a good landing spot on the south bank. "The crew will rest awhile and then row on as far as they can. We can walk," the Hound said. "I think the village south of the ford is just a few hours walk away. We should get there by nightfall."

"My father can't walk that far," Sansa told him.

"Well, he can't bloody well ride on my back."

After the Hound said this Sansa had a scowl on her face. "I can walk," Ned told them "Just not so fast."

And so they set off and Ned only had to walk a mile before they came on a small village and he paid two gold dragons for a horse and saddle. It was an ugly horse, old and with sores on its legs and Ned felt some pity for the beast but if he was to save Arya and Gendry he needed to make haste. The village was mostly empty of men and boys with only the greybeards and women and girls still there. "All gone to the ford, they is,' said an old crone. "Gone to fight the demons."

Soon they were walking again, with Grey Wind and Nymeria out in front, sniffing and scouting ahead. They were followed by Robb and the Hound, with Sansa behind them walking by Ned's horse. Ser Wendel was their rearguard but soon he began to flag. He had been trimmer and full of fight when in Robb's army in the earlier battles with the Lannisters, but after months in his father's home and at his table his girth was wider and his stamina gone. "Some knight," the Hound growled. "Keep up or catch up later, it matters not to me."

"I'll keep up," Ser Wendel gasped and he did, though by the end he was too exhausted he could hardly speak.

The Hound found a footpath near the riverbank and stuck to it and they walked on, with the Trident flowing past on their right, sluggish now, and full of ice chunks. And then after a bit they saw it was mostly ice covered, a sight Ned thought he would never see, such a wide river covered in ice. The barges would not get much farther up the river now. The air was very cold and snow was on the ground but the snowfall had been nowhere near as heavy as that in the North. They had not eaten since breakfast on the ship and Sansa took out some bread and dried beef from her backpack and they munched on it as they walked.

Just as night was beginning to fall they came on the outer perimeter of the vast host that was gathering at the ford. The outer fringes were just small camps, of men and tents, with no ditches or staked barriers and no one watching the paths. Many people had started to make fires for evening meals. As Ned and his small group walked through them no one challenged them or asked who they were.

"They are being too careless," he said. "If the Trident freezes more the Others can cross the ice downstream and come up from behind the army."

"Aye," the Hound replied. "Already they did that once. I'll have a word to whichever fool is in command here."

He went off and soon they heard him cursing and shouting at some poor man in Lannister colors who then hastened to gather some men to begin building proper defenses in their rear.

As he was shouting Sansa flinched when they heard his harsh words. "Why does he curse so?"

"It's his way," Ned told her.

"He is so uncouth," she said.

"Aye, he is. Then why do you care for him?"

Sansa had a sharp intake of breath and looked up at her father. "I…I don't."

"You do, Sansa. I can tell how you two talk to each other."

Even in the gathering darkness he could see her blush. "He saved my life," she stammered.

"He did. Is that it?"

"It is."

"Good. He is…" But he never finished as suddenly someone at a campfire stood up and shouted. "It's Lord Stark!"

Soon a crowd began to gather and began to ask questions but the Hound returned and shouted at them to clear off and they did so, and then they continued. Ned had no more chance to tell Sansa what he wanted to tell her so it would have to wait for later.

After a short time Ned saw a familiar face coming toward them. "Welcome to the wars, my lords…and lady," said Bronn, with a slight dip of his head. Ned grinned and climbed off his horse, with Robb's help. He still didn't trust the sellsword but at least he was someone he knew. "Aye, we've had our wars in the North as well."

Nymeria and Grey Wind sniffed Bronn and seemed to like him, coming close and Bronn rubbed their fur on their heads and they let him. "All us old wolves gotta stick together," Bronn said to them. Then he looked back at Ned. "Aye, I reckon you had your share of the fighting as well. Lord Imp has heard of your coming and awaits."

"The King. It is urgent that I see him."

"He is on his way. We sent a messenger to him."

"The Others, what news have you?" Robb asked Bronn.

"Except for the attacks on Saltpans and Riverrun we have not seen them for many days now."

Ned felt strange being in the midst of so many Lannisters again, and more than one gave him and his son and daughter odd looks as they walked by. They found Tyrion Lannister in a small two story house just south of the Ruby Ford. The Hound had walked on ahead of them, entered the small house, and they could hear him talking as he reported on his findings at Saltpans to Tyrion Lannister. Ser Wendel was so exhausted he asked someone to show him to a place to sleep and the Hound led him away after he had reported to Tyrion.

Inside they went and Tyrion was sitting at a table with an evening meal being set out, with a few wine bottles as well as a pitcher of what turned out to be ale. The boy named Podrick who had been Tyrion's squire the last time they had met was here, as well as the dark-haired girl who Tyrion had once referred to as his 'bed warmer'. Bronn came in behind them. He took a seat by the door and near a hearth after they entered, picked up a cup of wine from the floor and acted as if this was just another normal day for him, which it more than likely was.

"Ah, Lord Stark," Tyrion said as he stood from the table. "We meet again. And this time it is my table you have come to."

Ned still felt some anger for him but at least now he was more confident the Imp had played no role in trying to kill Bran. His brother was another matter. "Aye, your table," Ned replied. "My son Robb you know. Sansa, my daughter, as well, from Winterfell and Harrenhal."

"Yes, welcome all. Come, sit, eat. I am sure you had a long journey."

"Thank you," Sansa said as Podrick pulled out a chair for her and she sat. Robb and Ned both looked around warily and Tyrion chuckled.

"Not to worry, my lords. We are all here for the same reasons. There will be plenty of time to kill each other once the Others are defeated."

Ned grunted. "Aye, I suppose there will at that." Ned took off Ice and his sword and leaned them up against the nearby wall, within arm's reach, along with his walking stick. Robb did the same, though both kept their daggers on their belts. They sat and Podrick began to serve them food, a savory roast chicken, boiled potatoes, and some carrots, with bread. The dark-haired woman passed the dishes from the kitchen area to the young squire, though she did not speak.

"Wine or ale, my lords and …lady?" Podrick asked, his face turning a bit red as he looked to Sansa.

"Ale," Robb said.

"Water," Sansa told him. "For me and my father."

"The water I would not trust around here," Tyrion cautioned them. "Too many dead bodies and latrine pits."

"Aye," Ned said. "Ale…a small one. For us both."

Sansa looked to say something about this but kept silent as Podrick poured their drinks and then retired to a nearby corner, awaiting any of their needs.

"I will be upstairs," the dark-haired woman said to Tyrion and she left them. Tyrion hadn't introduced her though Sansa knew who she was.

"Is she Shae?"

"Yes, she is," Tyrion answered. "May I ask how you know her?"

"I remember her from Harrenhal. And San…the Hound, he told us how she saved your sister and Myrcella and Tommen."

Tyrion grimaced. "Yes, Shae did a great deed for House Lannister, not that Cersei would ever see it that way. I suppose Clegane told you all about the attack and Theon Greyjoy being captured?"

"He has," Robb answered around a mouthful of boiled potatoes.

"Well, the tale does not end there. Once she and the Hound spirited Theon Greyjoy out of his cell at the Golden Tooth and took him to Riverrun Cersei quickly called for both their heads."

Ned had his fork with a piece of roast chicken on it halfway to his mouth and then stopped. "Clegane did not mention this. Why did he free Theon?"

Tyrion's mismatched eyes shifted to Sansa for just a brief moment and then back to Ned. "Some fool idea of getting a ransom from you for Greyjoy's head. I suppose once the Rock was lost and most of our coin, Clegane feared we could no longer pay him."

"He never asked my father for money," Sansa said in what sounded like a protest.

"No? He will," Tyrion replied to her.

"I will pay him a ransom…if he asks and delivers Greyjoy," Ned told him.

Tyrion smiled. "Good. I am sure you can settle this matter. Cersei may take offense at being deprived the joy of seeing Greyjoy tortured and hung, but I am sure you can ably make him just as dead as she could."

After that they talked on the wars, north and south. Tyrion confirmed the news of the southern pretender. "Though I fear he may be no pretender. You may not have heard but Lord Varys disappeared during our battles around King's Landing. I believe he has gone east. If anyone could have spirited baby Aegon out of the Red Keep and planned a Targaryen return it could only be Varys."

Ned could not believe the scope of such a scheme. "But…he would have had to start planning this…ages ago."

"Indeed," Tyrion said. "The Spider he was not called for nothing, his webs everywhere, west and east. You do recall he had Jorah Mormont on his pay list in the east?"

"Aye, spying on the Mad King's daughter. What news of her?"

"Little and less. She was last said to be trying to be queen of Meereen. But that news is many moons old. Our lack of good information started about the time Varys left. I fear we depended too much on the man and now we are blind in the east."

There was no more to say on this so they talked about the attacks on Riverrun the Hound told them about. "Jaime and Lord Edmure, with the Blackfish, are chasing them west as we speak," Tyrion told them. "Though it was a small band of wights and a few Others so I expect their return soon."

"It seems like they had a strategy to hinder your supply lines," Robb suggested.

"Quite so," Tyrion replied. "I said as much to Stannis and Lord Tyrell and they scoffed at me for believing the Others could think in such a way. I am sure even once we tighten our belts a few more notches and the men start dropping like flies they will still not believe me."

"If they had seen the things we saw in the North they would believe," Ned told him. Then he had to ask. "What do you know of my daughter Arya and Gendry, Robert's son?"

"Ah, yes, the lady with a sword and the blacksmith's apprentice. Well, I learned that Stannis received a letter from you, the contents which he hardly told me about. But I have my ways. I know his red woman wants the boy, and that your daughter somehow got on board the ship he was on. I have heard tell that both were in Saltpans but a short time before the attack happened."

"Someone told us they went on a ship that is now bound for Dragonstone," Robb said.

"This may be true as well. Ser Davos took the fleet and the red woman and as many as he could when Saltpans fell. We lost many supplies as well. Stannis did, I mean, but we have been forced to share our bread and meat and mead to head off any bad blood. So now as I said our resources are stretched so this meal we are having may be the last good one we have for a while unless things get better." He gulped his wine and Podrick refilled his glass. Then Tyrion changed the subject as he looked at Ned. "You were wounded we heard. I see a bit of linen bandage under your hat."

"I was," Ned replied. He said no more and Tyrion did not ask but Sansa began to speak quickly.

"It was a blow to the head, and he almost died, but the old wildling woman knew how to save him. She cut open his head and…"

"Sansa, enough," Ned said, but not too harshly. "I am sure Lord Tyrion does not want to hear such gruesome details."

"Actually I would," Tyrion replied. "I live for gruesome details."

"No," Ned replied. "There is something we need to know, and before Stannis arrives. What does his red woman want with Gendry?'

Tyrion sighed. "It is an impossible dream she has. Ser Davos told me it all. She plans to burn him or cut his veins open or something, all to do with his supposed king's blood."

"But why?" Ned demanded, glaring at the Imp across the table.

Tyrion told them. "A dragon…she thinks she can use his death or his blood to animate a stone dragon that is on Dragonstone."

Ned sagged in his chair and Robb just shook his head. Sansa voiced their thoughts. "That's impossible…isn't it?"

"I know not," Tyrion said wearily. "One thing I do know. If she does awaken that dragon she had best be far away from it. Dragons are not known for their even tempers, and this one will surely be hungry after slumbering for so long."

"What powers does she have that she thinks she can do this?" Ned asked.

"Power she has, oh, yes indeed," came the reply. "Power over fire for certain. We have many witnesses to that. As for raising a dragon, well, if she succeeds…oh, but it is madness. No one can control a dragon unless they are a Targaryen and besides Daenerys and maybe Aegon there are no more Targar… oh…but…nevermind. He is…"

His voice trailed off and then he gulped his wine again. "I have said enough. Now…"

"No," Ned told him. "Say what you were going to say, about Targaryens." He knew, somehow he knew.

"Pod, Bronn, go for a walk."

"Are you sure?" Bronn asked from his chair by the hearth.

"Yes. Lord Stark and his children will not harm me."

As soon as they were gone Tyrion began to speak. "Well…I thought this could wait but I suppose not. Now, Stannis will be here shortly. There are things I know that I do not want him to know but which I must discuss with you. Alone."

"I have no secrets from my children."

"None? Are you sure?"

"None. What are you referring to?" It had to be Jon.

Tyrion said it quietly. "I know about Bran…and Jon."

Ned took a deep breath. "What do you know?"

"I know Bran has some special gift, that he sees things. And that Jon is not…not…"

"We know," said Robb quickly, his voice quiet as well. "We know who his real parents are."

"Then it is true," Tyrion replied in a low voice.

"It is," Ned told him. "How do you now this?"

"I cannot say."

Ned thought and thought and there was only one person who could have told him and then he remembered. "We heard your army was at the Twins. The crannogmen were at the Twins as well. You met Howland Reed there?"

"I did," Tyrion admitted. "Do not be harsh with your friend. He told me only as much as I needed to hear so as not to lose faith in our cause. Of course, I was uncertain if it was true or not."

"It is," Sansa blurted out. "Jon is the Prince reborn!"

"Gods," Robb said with a glare to his sister. "We cannot tell anyone!"

"Why not?" Ned answered. "He is north of the Wall by now, doing what he must do. No one can touch him or reach him, not even the King or his red woman."

"North of the Wall?" Tyrion said in surprise. "You sent him…and Bran?"

"I did," Ned replied. "The hardest thing I have ever done. Jon and Bran are going to face the Great Other. With Lightbringer in hand."

"Gods be good," Tyrion said. "He found the sword? Where?"

"In the crypts of Winterfell," Robb told him. "It had been there all this time."

"My word," Tyrion said in shock, his eyes full of emotion. "Long I have read tales of that time. Long I have thought on those days and what all the myths and prophecy meant. And now, to be alive as it is happening, but to be so far away…how cruel fate is."

"Fate has put us here, to save Westeros," Ned answered. "But first you must help me convince Stannis to do no harm to Gendry."

Tyrion looked at him and raised his heavy eyebrows. "She loves him, does she not?"

Ned nodded. "Aye. They are husband and wife now."

"Ah, so young," Tyrion replied. "But what is that compared to love? So…he is family."

"He is," Sansa said.

"Yes…all very well, and you might be able to persuade Stannis," Tyrion told them. "But…it may be too late. Six days they are gone, almost seven by now. They will surely be in Dragonstone soon. Even a raven cannot fly so fast."

"We must try!" Ned said, his fists balled in rage. Then the door opened and Bronn stepped into the small house. Outside it was already dark. Bronn said just two words.

"The King."

He opened the door wide and Stannis Baratheon walked in, alone. Ned had not seen him in over ten years, not since the Greyjoy rebellion. He was still as tall, but his hair was receding and graying, and his face was much thinner than he remembered. He wore plate with chain mail with a golden yellow surcoat with the fiery heart sigil he now sported. Ned sat there staring at him and it was his children who reminded him that this was a king.

Sansa and Robb got to their knees and Ned started to do the same when Stannis shook his head. "No," the King said. "There is no need for this. Rise, everyone."

Tyrion nor Bronn had bothered getting to their knees and Ned wondered on this as Sansa and Robb stood up. Stannis approached them and stuck out his hand which Ned shook.

"It has been too many years, Lord Stark."

"Aye, my King. Too many with much bloodshed between, especially of late."

"Yes, and we are not done yet," Stannis replied. Then he looked to Robb. "Lord Robb, we met once many years ago when you were just a boy."

"I remember, Your Grace."

"I suppose I have you to thank for helping me in my wars with the Lannisters."

"I only wanted to free my sisters and father, Your Grace."

"That you did…and more. You bested the Kingslayer and his father, not an easy feat."

"I had many good advisors, Your Grace."

"Modest as well. That is refreshing after dealing with so many braggarts of late." Then Stannis' eyes turned to Sansa and she curtsied.

"Your Grace," she said with eyes downcast.

"And you are…?

"Sansa, Your Grace," Ned told him. "My eldest daughter."

"I had not expected to see you here Lady Sansa," Stannis said. "This is no place for a lady."

"My father's wounds are not healed, Your Grace," Sansa replied. "He needs my help. And I am training to be a healer as well."

"Good, we need all the healers we can get. I need to talk to your father…alone. I am sure Lord Tyrion can find you and Lord Robb suitable quarters."

"Most certainly," Tyrion said as he stood. "Bronn, please…"

"I want you gone as well," Stannis said to Tyrion, his words curt and in almost a harsh manner. There was no love between these two, Ned knew.

Tyrion smiled, a false smile. "These are my headquarters and I am still in command."

"Then Lord Stark and I shall return to my headquarters."

Tyrion sighed. "No, not to worry. Of course, we will give you some privacy." He looked to Sansa and Robb. "Well, let us be off, shall we?"

Robb looked at Ned and he nodded. "Go. I will find you after."

They gathered their belongings and soon Stannis and Ned were alone at the table. "I'd offer you some ale or wine but know you don't partake," Ned said as he poured some ale for himself.

"I sometimes make exceptions," Stannis replied as he held out an empty cup. Ned shrugged and filled it. Stannis took one sip of ale and put the cup on the table. Then his eyes turned hard. "Why did the Wall fall?"

So, this is how it was to be. "That can wait. I have more pressing business with you…my King. My other daughter and her husband have been taken by Ser Davos and your red woman to Dragonstone. You must write her…"

"I must? Those are dangerous words to say to a King, Lord Stark."

"Aye, and I say them and ask for your forgiveness and do so only because I have no time for niceties, Your Grace. The boy is Robert's son, your own blood, and my…"

"A bastard."

"A bastard who has served my house well, fighting for us and for you, defending our people and your realm. I had Ser Denys Mallister of the Night's Watch knight him for his service. He loves my daughter and she loves him and now they are husband and wife. He is my kin now as much as yours."

"That was a mistake, allowing them to marry."

"No, Your Grace, it was not a mistake. The mistake was in allowing Ser Axell anywhere near him. But I was in my sick bed, or surely I would have stopped it."

"Ser Axell did his duty, as all good men do. Three others I sent after this bastard. Three men I sent to Winterfell to find him. What became of them?"

This was dangerous ground and Ned had to be careful with his words. "Four you sent. Only two survived, the baker Hot Pie and one of the others. The winter snows took care of the other two, killed all their horses, and near killed Hot Pie and the other man as well. They were barely alive when my people found them."

"Did the other one not tell you why they were there?"

"He said they were looking for Gendry, aye."

"So why did you not give him up?" Stannis demanded. "You disobeyed a direct command because your daughter loved this boy?"

"I was not at Winterfell and neither was Gendry. He was at the Wall, as was I. And soon after we were fleeing for our lives and then were surrounded in Winterfell. Your Grace…there was no way to send him south."

"Even if you could have you did not want to," Stannis said with a snort.

"Maybe so," Ned admitted. "What does it matter now? You have him. My King… Stannis…you and I go back a long way. Since your brother…"

"My brother," Stannis said with a scoff. "You were more brother to Robert than I ever was. It was I who should have been made Hand after Jon Arryn died."

"Aye…I wish it had been so. I never wanted it."

Stannis grunted. "At least we can agree on that much. I got your letters about your suspicions about Jon Arryn's death and about Cersei's children's parentage. I saw the boy Gendry and Jon Arryn did as well. We both thought the same thing. He began to investigate…and they killed him. You confronted that bitch…and she threw you in a dungeon and killed your people when Robert was dead. And what did I do? I left when I learned you would be Hand instead of me. I should have told Robert what I suspected, but he would have laughed at me and called me a fool and said I was only doing it to make him hate the Lannisters. But you he would have believed. When I got your letters I waited for the moment. I knew it would come to war, so on Dragonstone I prepared. Even with Robert alive it would have been war. He would have killed Cersei and the Kingslayer and then Lord Tywin would have raised his banners. But Robert died before you could tell him."

"Aye. But that is in the past. We both hate the Lannisters, but now we must needs keep this coalition together. We…"

"What number of men have you brought?"

"Less than a thousand, awaiting at Saltpans' harbor."

Stannis grunted again. "A thousand? Is this all that is left in the North?"

"Aye, less what I left in White Harbor to defend it. We are overrun."

Stannis sighed. "Then I cannot write to Melisandre to delay her plans. I cannot stop her or we will all be lost."

"It's madness! Tyrion told me it all. You cannot raise something made of stone!"

"Maybe so. But she must try. With a dragon…"

"You cannot control it! Only a Targaryen can."

"There are many with the old blood of Valyria on Dragonstone."

"Old, diluted blood, more water than wine," Ned shot back. "They will not be able to tame the beast even if by some miracle she raises it."

Stannis stood, his anger on him. "We must try! Or we are doomed!"

Ned stood as well and pleaded with him. "No, my King, there is hope. In my blood."

"Your…blood? Speak plainly, man. There is no time for riddles."

Ned had to tell him now. "You are not the Prince That Was Promised."

Stannis' thin body seemed to sag and he sat once more and so did Ned. Stannis took his cup of ale and drank it in one go. He gasped a bit and then put the cup down. "There. I have drunk the poison that men love so well, and found it not to my taste at all. You are right, of course. I let her make me think this for so long I actually began to believe it. But when I fought an Other it had no fear of me and the sword I called Lightbringer made no mark on it. I kept up the fiction for my men, to give them hope. I have heard rumors that your son Bran is the real thing."

"Not Bran…Jon."

That startled him. "Tell me it all or I will do nothing for your daughter and her husband."

"I must have your word that you will not harm Jon."

"Harm him? Why would I harm him?"

"He is the Prince, so you know what that means."

Stannis nodded. "He has Targaryen blood. But, he is your son and there are no more Targaryen women, not here at least. So…oh…yes. He is not your son. So he must be…Rhaegar's and…Lyanna?"

"Aye."

"No matter. He has no claim to my throne, if that's what you fear. He is a bastard as much as Gendry is and the rest of Robert's tainted brood. They have no claim. I will not harm Jon Snow. You have my word."

So Ned told him, as quickly as he could, about Jon and Bran and Lightbringer, the real Lightbringer, and where they were going, and what they hoped to do, and when he was done he wondered if he had made a mistake but time was not slowing and he needed to convince Stannis there was another way to defeat the Others. Stannis believed it all and looked angry. "It was all lies, all lies she told me," he said in a bitter tone.

"Aye. All to gain your favor."

"Still…she has been a great help in my wars. Where are Bran and Jon now?"

"It's been more than a moon's turn since they left Winterfell. They must surely be north of the Wall by now."

"If they still live."

"We must trust that they do."

"But you said they knew not what to do."

"Aye. We can only look to the gods to see them on the right path."

"Gods," Stannis said, not an oath, but the simple word. "Gods we have aplenty. I have followed one for the past three years. I have burned men in his name, and have seen the wondrous things the red woman can do with the power he gives her. If anyone can raise the dragon, she can."

"I beg of you, do not let her kill Gendry. Delay her, at least. Order her to do nothing yet."

Stannis looked at him and his demeanor changed, became more tense. "If I do this for you, what do I get in return?"

"My house has been ever faithful to yours."

"It has. Yet you have had troubles with some of my allies."

That surprised Ned. "Your…allies? Who?"

"Lord Baelish for one."

"Baelish started this war with his lies."

"Hard to prove. And he is of great use to me. He is now married to your wife's sister, have you heard?"

"I have, Your Grace. A false marriage no doubt, for Baelish has forever loved my Catelyn, not Lysa. He did it to gain the Vale for himself some day. He has not played his last move yet."

"I need the Vale now, Lord Stark. We need the Vale. He is not to be harmed."

Ned swallowed his pride and anger. "Aye."

"Good. Then there are the Greyjoys."

Ned blanched. "The Greyjoys?"

"Who do you think asked them to attack Casterly Rock?"

"I did not know, Your Grace."

"No, how could you? Theon Greyjoy was made King of the Iron Islands and then was foolish enough to get himself captured. He is being held at Riverrun. You will no doubt want his head. You can't have it."

Ned felt his anger building and fought to clamp it down. Baelish was one thing but this he could not stand for. "He attacked Winterfell. Took my sons hostage. Killed many of my people. He cannot be allowed to go unpunished!"

"He can," Stannis said strongly. "You will tell Ser Edmure to release him to you and when he gets here you will hand Theon Greyjoy over to me."

"I cannot. Please do not ask this of me, Your Grace, I beg of you."

"Do this and I will send the letter to Dragonstone."

Ned felt a slight wave of dizziness and grasped the edge of the table. He knew he had no choice, and it galled him to no end. For Arya he had to do it. Someday in the future he would kill Theon Greyjoy, and Baelish, but it would not be as soon as he had hoped. Finally he looked at Stannis. "Then write the letter now, here, and send it tonight. Two copies. Two ravens. Just to be certain."

On a shelf nearby was ink, parchment, and quills. Stannis retrieved them and sat and wrote the raven scroll messages and Ned read them and approved. "We have no ravens here for Dragonstone. Some are at Harrenhal," Stannis told him.

"Your fastest rider," Ned asked and Stannis sealed the scrolls with wax and his sigil stamp he carried with him. He called for the messenger and soon a swift horse was heading south towards Harrenhal.

When he was gone they stood on the step outside the house in the cold night air. Ten men were there, all with Stannis' sigil, holding horses by the reins. Bronn was nearby, as was Clegane, both eyeing Stannis' men. Ned was in a bad mood and wanted only to find a bed and rest, but the King wanted to talk. "You still have not told me how the Wall fell."

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am weary. Perhaps on the morrow."

Stannis grunted. "As you wish. There will be a conference of commanders in my pavilion in the morning. Lord Tyrion can show you the way."

"Aye, Your Grace."

With that Stannis mounted up and was soon gone with his men. Bronn and the Hound came closer to Ned. "Good talks?" Bronn asked.

"No," Ned said without thinking. Then his eyes turned to Clegane. "I heard you want a ransom for Theon Greyjoy."

Clegane spat. "No. No ransom."

"Then why did you take him from Cersei?"

"To spite that cunt," he said and then turned and walked away.

Bronn laughed. "Big man has no love for the little man's sister."

"Not many do. Tell me Bronn, what really happened? Why did he do it?"

Bronn grinned. "Not my place to say. Best ask your daughter."

Gods, no. Not her, too. Not with him. It can't be.

"Come. I will take you to where they put you up. Tyrion had to kick some knights out of this house so be grateful you have a roof and not canvas over your heads."

The house was close by, a two story wooden house, with a chimney with smoke coming out of it, and some light in the windows. Inside the lay out was much like Tyrion's house. He found Tyrion and Sansa sitting at a table laughing about something while Robb knelt and was stoking a fire in a hearth, with Nymeria and Grey Wind on the floor by him chewing on bones. The people all stood when Bronn and Ned entered.

"What did he say?" Robb asked immediately.

"He sent a letter to Dragonstone to tell her to not harm Gendry until he sends a direct command."

"Thank the gods," Sansa said and she sniffed and seemed about to cry but held herself in check.

"He is not out of danger yet," Ned replied as he sat at the table.

Tyrion looked at him shrewdly. "Stannis is not known for being so generous. I fear you had to promise him something."

"Aye…we cannot kill Theon Greyjoy. Or Baelish."

Robb cursed and slammed his fist against a wall. "Theon at least must be punished!"

"He will….but not now."

"But why?" Sansa asked in confusion.

"I am sure it is because he is Stannis' ally," Tyrion told her. "Clegane told us Theon told him that Stannis promised him and his people my family's lands if he took them."

"This is how the King repays us for our loyalty?" Robb asked in frustration. "Must we obey such a wretched command?"

"I gave my word," Ned told him. "I will not break it. And you must think of Arya and Gendry."

"Aye," said Robb as he flopped into a seat by the table. They were all silent for a few moments and then Tyrion stood.

"Well…I must return to my own house, now Stannis now longer has need of it. Come, Bronn."

"Wait," Ned told him. "Sit…you too Bronn."

Tyrion and Bronn glanced at each other and then did as he asked, Robb getting up to give Bronn his seat. Ned sat next to Sansa and opposite them and stared at Tyrion. "Your brother pushed my son out that window."

Tyrion sighed heavily. "Not this again. I told you…"

"Bran remembered," Robb told him, standing over him in a threatening manner.

"Remembered what?" Tyrion asked.

Sansa now stared at him as well. "That Ser Jaime pushed him!" she shouted, no longer finding the Imp so amusing.

On the floor Grey Wind and Nymeria sensed the tension in the room and got up and started to growl.

"Keep them beasts still," Bronn demanded.

Robb looked over at them. "Sit," he said and they did so. Bronn seemed impressed by this. But Ned cared not, for he still stared at Tyrion.

"I will have justice for my son," he said to Tyrion.

"You seem to forget you are in the midst of my army and are a guest of my family."

"For now," Ned told him. "There will come a day of reckoning you can be sure."

"You had better stand in line," Bronn quipped. "More than you want the Kingslayer's head. And then he wants Stannis' head, as does Loras Tyrell, and the red woman's as well so…it all gets a bit complicated, if you follow."

"Indeed," Tyrion added. "Why did you tell me this?" That was for Ned.

"So you know, so you tell him. So you keep him away from me. If I see him…I know not what I will do."

"You will face my brother when you can barely walk? Come, Lord Stark, this is not wise. We have enemies enough. And one we both want dead. Baelish."

"Stannis protects him for now but he will get what is due as well some day," Ned replied.

"But not me?" Tyrion asked, his eyebrows arched.

"You…you I have my doubts about as you know."

"You may as well tell him," Bronn said to Tyrion. "So he has no more doubts."

"Very well," Tyrion answered. "You can ask the Hound yourself. He knew for a long time. It was Joffrey that paid the footpad to kill your son."

"Joffrey?" Sansa said in shock. "But…he was going to marry me! He tried to kill my brother?"

"Aye, so says the Hound and Myrcella," Bronn told them. Tyrion told them the story and how he learned of it. When he was done Ned shook his head in weariness and had but one question.

"Why?"

Tyrion shrugged. "I know not. And the little shit is dead so I guess we never will."

"My wife…"

"Yes," Tyrion interrupted. "She took me because of that foolishness. And of course my father took the field and…well, you know what happened next. No sense in going over old history."

"Gods almighty," Robb said in anger. "Such madness and bloodshed over…over what? He hated Bran? He wanted to kill him just because I beat him in the practice yard?"

"As I said I know not," Tyrion replied. Then he stood again and so did Bronn. "There will be a meeting of commanders tomorrow at Stannis'…"

"I know," interrupted Ned this time. Tyrion turned and was about to leave when Ned wondered something else. "What will they decide to do? About the Others."

Tyrion stopped by the door, turned, and snorted slightly. "They are all saying we should move from this place. That we should move north again, find the Others, attack them."

"If they can find the Others," Robb said.

"Yes," Tyrion replied. "There are many 'ifs'. Well, my lords, my lady, goodnight."

After they were gone Ned looked at Robb. "Go for a walk, Robb. Take the direwolves. I need talk to your sister. Alone."

Sansa suddenly looked scared and Robb hesitated and then did as he was told, taking the direwolves with him.

Sansa could not look at him as he turned back to her. "Tell me about the Hound…Sandor as you call him."

She still would not look at him, her eyes downcast, and spoke as she did when a child and had been naughty. "I told you he saved my life. There is nothing else to tell."

"Yes, there is."

"No…"

"I am not blind Sansa. I saw how he reacted when he saw you on the ship, how you spoke to him, how he tries not to swear in front of you, how he tries to be kind to you."

Now she looked up. "It was because of his younger sister. His brother killed her many years ago."

That news shocked Ned and at the same time he was not surprised a brute like the Mountain could have done such a thing. "I did not know."

"No one does. That's why he hated his brother so…and for other reasons. His scars from the fire Gregor pushed his face into. Now he dotes on young girls, like Myrcella and…and me."

"There is more to it than that."

"What could there be? He is a vile man who killed people of our house, killed Arya's friend. He has done terrible, monstrous things. He is a soldier of our enemies."

"Aye, he has and he is. And still he loves you."

She gasped and her eyes glistened with her tears. "No…it can't be true."

"Why did he risk his head to get Theon Greyjoy to me? He has been loyal to the Lannisters for more than ten years and suddenly he turns on them?"

"He wanted the ransom."

"No, he refused any coin I offered."

"Then…he did it to win favor…with…you." Her voice went quiet at the end as she realized what she was saying.

"Aye…he did. Because of you."

"No," she repeated. "It can't be true."

"Why not?"

"Because he must know you will never allow it."

"Aye…I won't."

She stared at him for what seemed like ages, her face on the verge of cracking into a flood of tears. But she composed herself and wiped her eyes. "Then there is no more to say."

She stood and he did as well and grabbed her arm as she tried to get past him to the stairway to the upper floor. "Sansa…do you love him?"

Sansa pulled her arm away and stared at him now, her eyes full of anger and bitterness. "How could I? He is a beast."

She ran to the stairwell and went up to the second floor at a run. And then as Ned sat down and thought on this and all the things that he had heard over the last day, he felt an utter sense of exhaustion. As his eyes grew heavy he heard her sobbing upstairs, and he knew the truth, and his soul cried out in anguish for he knew he would have to break his little girl's heart.


	4. Chapter 4 Cersei

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 3 Chapter 4 Cersei**

The stench of smoke and death filled her nose as Queen Cersei looked down on the remains of Lannisport to her left and up at Casterly Rock to her right. Though it was hard from this vantage point to assess the damage to Casterly Rock, Lannisport was clear to see. It was almost a complete ruin, with hardly a building or a stone of its walls remaining, all its docks destroyed, and the lighthouse on the mole once more in ruins. Many tents and canvas awnings were there now, with open fires plentiful where the survivors now huddled in the cold.

In the shallow waters near the shores lay the remains of many Lannister and Iron Island ships, their broken masts and spars and hulls sticking up out of the water as the mostly calm seas lapped around them. The harbor had at least been cleared of wrecks, and was now filled with ships of Lord Redwyne's fleet from the Arbor, while more of his ships rode at anchor just outside of the harbor and even more could be seen on the horizon on patrol duty. We should have had them here sooner, Cersei thought, but they had been forced to be allied with Stannis when he held Mace Tyrell's children prisoner, and afterwards no one had thought on it when there was time. When the enemy was at their gates it was too late.

Down below she could see many men were building new docks, and in the city people were moving about, trying to salvage what remained of their lives. Cersei generally had no feelings at all for the smallfolk but this was too much even for her. Much as she hated to admit it the great lords and ladies of the realm needed the smallfolk as much as they needed the wisdom and leadership of their betters. We must find a way to re-build the city, she thought, but as yet no substantial construction was going on in the city. Defenses were what they needed first and she could just see on the far beaches south of the town men were building defensive breastworks in case the ironmen came back.

To her left behind Lannisport there was a small valley where a forest of tents now stood, arrayed in neat lines, with smoke coming from cooking fires under great awnings of wood and canvas. Here the levies her Aunt Genna had managed to gather were being trained and prepared for more war wherever they were needed. They were a small force compared to the great army of her father. Her Uncle Kevan and Jaime had led them away to battle Stannis from this camp. Now her father was dead and so was Kevan. His body was in a wagon in the train of wagons that came behind her. Cersei was on foot, with Tommen and Myrcella beside her, all three just alighting from the large cozy carriage they had traveled in from the Golden Tooth. Ser Preston and Ser Arys stood nearby them, holding the reins of their horses, all of them making clouds of steam as they breathed and expelled the frosty air. Fifty mounted men were behind them, while in the train came two hundred more mounted men, plus many supply wagons, one with Kevan's frozen body in it.

It had been so very cold when his body had come from the Trident to the Golden Tooth. When Lady Alysanne told Cersei the commander of the column returning with the wounded and dead needed to speak to her, she impatiently told her to have her castellan deal with him, as had been the norm till now.

"My Queen…they have a body. It's…" And Cersei had felt her heart skip a beat for a moment, fearing it was Jaime. Then Alysanne finished. "It's your uncle, Ser Kevan Lannister."

The body was wrapped in linen and lying in the back of a wagon by itself, while other nearby wagons were filled with more Lannister dead stacked like piles of firewood. People were already taking down the bodies, all of them frozen stiff from the cold on the journey from the battle front to here. Each body was of a knight or person of some rank; the common soldiers had already been burned on the battlefield. The families of the high ranking dead would want their bodies or bones. The maesters would write the letters to the families, breaking the bad news and telling them to pick up their dead here.

But now one of the dead was of her family. She had little love for Kevan Lannister, for they had clashed often since her father's death. But he had been one of the few rocks in their family, upon which she could depend, and suddenly he was gone, leaving Jaime in command of the army to the east. Jaime….rash, impetuous Jaime…in command. She knew her brother and lover only too well, and ever since he pushed the Stark boy from that damn window she knew the depth of his stupidity. His desires to marry her and tell the whole kingdoms that the children were his children, not Robert's, made her doubly sure he had not a wit in that fool head of his.

Yet…she had two brothers. Tyrion was there as well with the army, and Cersei, no matter how much she hated her little brother, could not say he was that much of a fool. Foolish things he had done, like falling in love with a whore, but he had also done things that helped their family regain some of its lost prestige. Now according to the latest reports he had formed a great coalition with their enemies and they had actually put the little gargoyle in command. She thought they had been fools to do so and felt such a coalition could not last. She had prepared to evacuate with her children from the Golden Tooth, but word had come from the front that they had held the Others and had won a great victory.

But they had not defeated them, and so her desire to move grew, more so when casualty reports came in. Their losses were high, and many a family in the realm had one less son or father or brother or uncle. Now her family as well. She had already heard of Lancel's death by the Twins, but she cared little for him, and knew one day Jaime would kill him anyway. She was glad the simpering fool was out of the way. However, as soon she knew of Ser Kevan's death, Cersei finally decided it was time to leave the Golden Tooth and return to Casterly Rock, to keep her children far as far away from the fighting as she could.

After the bodies had been unloaded from the wagons Cersei ordered the linen taken from the face of her uncle to confirm it was him. She almost gasped in fright as she saw that he had been burned and his features were hardly recognizable.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of the commander of the column. "Why was he burned?

"My Queen, they had to burn them so they would not become wights," he told her.

"How do I even know it is him?" she asked in anger.

"Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime personally told me who it was, Your Grace. They made sure I knew that before we covered him. He also had this on him."

Out of a pocket he fished out a large gold ring with a red ruby stone set in it, something Cersei knew her uncle always wore, as it had been a gift from his father to him when he had come of age so many years ago. "Yes," she said. "It must surely be him."

"There are some letters as well, Your Grace," the man told her. He handed over two letters, one for Tommen and one for Genna, both in Tyrion's hand and with his seal in golden wax. The letter for Genna no doubt gave Tyrion's regrets about Ser Kevan's death. She thought to open it, in case he was plotting something with her, but decided not to, as he needed Genna now and it would not do to make her an enemy. Later she read the letter for Tommen, which described the battle and gave news of the new coalition and its members. She also found Ser Addam Marbrand was among the wounded and sought him out. He had a wounded left shoulder, which caused him great discomfort, but he bravely masked his pain as he told her and Tommen about the battle. She wanted to shield Tommen from the sights of the wounded men as much as she could, but it was difficult to do so when so many were in the castle now.

Ser Kevan's charred body was left outside with the other dead, to preserve them in the cold. After she dealt with the letters and Ser Addam, she sent a page to find the commander of the column and bring him to the lavish apartments where she and the children were staying. It was late at night and Cersei had already made the decision to go back to Casterly Rock, had told the children and sent them to bed. Ser Preston and Ser Arys stood guard as did twenty men of the Lefford household. Ser Preston admitted the man to her sitting room and stayed inside as well. Cersei remained seated while the man stood before her.

He was of average height and build, with hair and beard more brown than blond but he had hints of blond there. He was younger than her but not by much she ventured. He was clearly very tired after his journey and also looked wary, so she put him at his ease as she started with small talk, asking him his name and where he was from. "Ser Thomas Westerling, from the Crag, Your Grace."

"Westerling? Really? I thought I knew all of dear Lord Gawen's children."

"I am a nephew of Lord Gawen, Your Grace, his younger brother's second son."

"Ah…and your older brother is the family heir, yes?"

"Heir, yes, Your Grace, but not to much."

"I see. May I ask why you are leading supply columns when a knight should surely be on the field?"

She saw some disquiet in his face. "I was wounded at Riverrun and have still not fully healed. Ser Kevan thought it best to leave me with the supply columns until I feel better."

"I am sure he was right. But a knight can win no glory leading supply columns."

She saw some spark in Ser Thomas' eyes. "No, he cannot, Your Grace."

"Then perhaps you are the man for a task I need doing."

"I am yours to command, Your Grace."

She smiled sweetly. "Good." Then her smile fell. "Where is Sandor Clegane?"

The man's face blanched. "I...I did not see him, Your Grace."

"Did my brother tell you to say that if I asked?"

"No…he…"

"Don't lie! I am your Queen!" she said through gritted teeth, knowing for certain he was lying, more than likely on Tyrion's orders. "You had better fear what I will do and not my brother. Now tell me true, is Clegane there or not?"

Now he looked embarrassed. "Yes, Your Grace. He…the Hound…he is there, with Lord Tyrion, as one of his command group."

"And the whore?"

He understood who she meant without having to explain. "Yes, she is there as well, Your Grace."

"Sleeping with the Imp?"

Ser Thomas nodded. "He…he tried to hide her but everyone knows she is there in his house where he stays."

"And does not my brother know I ordered her and Clegane returned here? And that squid Greyjoy as well?"

"I am uncertain, Your Grace."

Perhaps he was telling the truth this time. "I sent men, to Riverrun with such orders, to bring back the traitor Greyjoy and the heads of those two who betrayed me. Did not that order arrive at Riverrun?"

"Again, I am uncertain, Your Grace."

She seethed and could not control her anger. "Uncertain, you are, but I am certain Lord Lefford got the messages. I am certain he was also told by Tyrion to disobey me, your Queen! And if such an order arrived I am also certain not one of you would lift a hand to follow an order from me. Is this not so?"

Ser Thomas looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock. "My Queen…Lord Tyrion…he is…Hand… he is…"

"Nothing!" she shouted. "You are going back, tomorrow, and you have a direct order to bring Clegane and the whore's heads. And kill Greyjoy as well, any way you can. It is an insult to our family and our kingdom that that brigand still breathes."

Now he looked terrified. "My Queen, Lord Tyrion's orders…"

"Do not supersede the King's. You will have your royal warrant by the morning."

"Yes, Your Grace, but…Greyjoy is well protected in Riverrun. The Hound, he is a monstrous brute. He killed his own brother…he…"

"You will have fifty men to help you," she said, wondering how this simpering fool ever became a knight. Perhaps it was cowardice that made him hide in the supply lines. But he was what she had, so she had to use him. Now she stood and approached him and whispered so the nearby Ser Preston would not hear her. "Do this for me, for your King, and I shall have the King give you lands and titles. Or even a place on the Kingsguard if you so wish." Now she saw that spark again and he agreed to do his best.

Ser Thomas and the fifty men left the next morning in the bitter cold as Cersei herself was preparing to go. When Lady Alysanne asked why the men were being sent, Cersei told her they were for the garrison at Riverrun, to help protect Lady Alysanne's father and the supply depot in case the Others attacked there. Lord Lefford was in charge of the supply base at Riverrun, in charge of Theon Greyjoy, yet he had ignored her demands to return him. Some day he would pay for that insolence. Lady Alysanne should be thankful there was no order for her father's head as well.

To make sure all was done as she asked, Cersei had Tommen sign a royal warrant for Greyjoy's summary execution and another one for Clegane and yet a third for the whore's capture and summary execution as well. Now that his two uncles were gone Tommen was more pliable and still loved signing documents and stamping them without knowing what they were. Soon she would be rid of three thorns in her side, all of whom had embarrassed her long enough. Her father would have never suffered such who had shamed and harmed them to live and neither would she.

She still tried to be friendly with Lady Alysanne, for her family was still extremely wealthy while Cersei's was suddenly not. She advised Lady Alysanne to join her in the journey to Casterly Rock but she refused, saying she would stay by her ancestral home to the bitter end if it came to it.

"Suit yourself," Cersei said to her as she took her leave in the main hallway of the castle. "I thought we might have this chance to get to know one another better, since you will be part of our family one day."

"There will time enough for that, Your Grace, once the wars are done," Alysanne replied.

"You staying here in a place of danger will not help end the wars. If the armies at the Trident fail, the Others will be here in no time."

"The Golden Tooth is stout, with high walls and good men defending it."

"So was Casterly Rock," Cersei replied bitterly.

"Yes," Alysanne agreed. "Yet those were men who attack, with all their wiles and devious ways. These demons have no such skill."

"That is yet to be seen. Come with us and be far away from these terrible creatures."

"I am sorry, Your Grace, but my place is here. If the demons come this way it will give my people strength to know I am here. Perhaps the King should stay as well."

Cersei looked at her as if she was mad. "The King has faced quite enough danger for one so young." Cersei turned without wanting for a reply and as Tommen and Myrcella made their goodbyes to Lady Alysanne, Cersei impatiently hustled them out the door.

"The nerve of that woman," she muttered as they climbed into a large carriage in the courtyard and took their seats. "To think she will marry your uncle someday…I wonder if that is not a mistake."

"Because Uncle Tyrion loves Shae?" Tommen asked.

Cersei smiled sweetly. "Oh, my poor dear, your uncle never loved her. He only wanted her for…for…other reasons. Now never mind all that. We have a few days ride ahead of us and no time to waste, my King."

A guard of honor was drawn up for their departure. A vanguard of knights and mounted men-at-arms preceded the royal carriage. The two Kingsguard knights rode beside the royal carriage, and almost two hundred more mounted men and the necessary supply wagons came behind. When Cersei had demanded the men for an escort the castellan had said they were more sorely needed here or at the front. Cersei almost had him thrown in the dungeon for suggesting the King's protection was less important than this dreary old castle. He and his men had failed to stop Clegane and the whore from sneaking Greyjoy away and she still suspected he might have helped them. But that could not be proved and Cersei had no friends here to support her, so she let the matter be. For now.

It took them almost three days to reach the road junction between Lannisport and Casterly Rock, spending the two nights on the road in the holdfasts of minor lords. The cold had kept up but it hadn't rained and hadn't snowed so they were lucky for that. They had warming pans filled with hot coals in the carriage with them, with flasks filled with warm nettle tea and several thick quilts. It was nice and toasty and comfortable as well.

Now as Cersei stood looking down on the remains of Lannisport she had a change of heart and thought she ought to leave it like that, a blasted smoking ruin, as a lesson to those too stupid and weak to defend it. But they needed a port, so it would have to be somewhat rebuilt. Yes, let the people who owned the land and wanted to get rich by being traders and merchants rebuild it. If they had survived that is. Cersei had no money to offer them. She wondered if she had any money at all now. It was time to find out.

Up above stood Casterly Rock, the one thing that in all her life had never changed, had always been a constant. That was no longer true. The Lion's Mouth was an utter ruin, blasted and broken, its gold gilt gates lying in the snowy field before the cracked walls. Yet, she could see men working on the stone, on the walls and battlements, doing repair work already. That was a good sign.

"Come, children, time to see what remains of our ancestral home." They climbed back into their warm carriage. As they rode through the open gate, with the leading man carrying Tommen's standard on a long pole, suddenly all the workmen realized who was here and put down their tools and got down on their knees. That was another good sign, she thought.

Genna Lannister met them at the main doors, which were surprisingly intact and showed no signs of damage. The same could not be said about the rest. Cersei could see where windows had broken and where stones had tumbled. The stench of smoke was heavy here, and soot covered the stones in the entrance to the castle.

Genna bowed to them as they approached. "My King, my Queen, dear Princess, I am afraid I do not have much of a welcome for you," Genna said, her demeanor quite downcast.

Cersei put on her saddest face. "Dearest Aunt Genna…that matters not…we have terrible news. Kevan…"

"Yes, I know," Genna said, her eyes almost tearing up. "A raven came from Riverrun two days ago. Jaime was there, defending the castle from the Others, and wrote a hasty message telling me the terrible news."

"The Others at Riverrun? Is Jaime well?" Cersei asked, forgetting all else as she worried on him.

"Yes, they beat off the attacks but lost many men, he wrote. But come inside, it is frigid. We have managed to have some rooms properly cleaned, and we are burning incense everywhere, though the smell of smoke may linger for a while yet."

Inside it was gloomy and stank of smoke mixed with the sweeter smell of incense. As they walked through the corridors Cersei realized all the great tapestries her family had gathered over many generations were all gone, burned, Genna said, not stolen. The ironmen had carried off little except the coin and jewelry and other trinkets they found. They had set three great fires before they ran away, but the damage had been mostly confined to these three areas, which included the great hall and the Golden Ballroom, the kitchens, and some of the guard houses and the armory. Smoke had filled almost everywhere in the castle and smaller fires took some time to put out. Genna and the other survivors had been hard at work setting things to right as best they could. It would take years to make it the same as it had been, but at least the shell and interior of the castle was still here, as well as most of their people.

Cersei's rooms had not been badly damaged and she and the children settled in here, with two more beds brought for them. After Cersei gave Genna the letter from Tyrion, she asked the most important question. "Did they leave us at least a penny to make an offering to the gods?"

"The vaults are mostly empty but we are not totally destitute."

"How so?" Cersei asked in surprise.

Genna grinned slightly. "It seems Lann the Clever's wisdom has come down though the ages. One of our ancestors in days of yore built a secret vault that no one knew about except the head of the house and the castellan through succeeding generations, a vault only to be opened in a dire situation. Well, our castellan survived and as this is quite a dire time, he told me about it. He never had time to tell Tyrion this good news and anyway Tyrion is not here, so he showed me to the secret vault and opened it. We have coin for the future at least, not as much as we once had, but half a million dragons at least, he said, and plenty of silver and copper to see us over the next while."

"Thank the gods for that," Cersei replied, almost tearing up. Being poor would have done her pride damage that might never be repaired. "We shall have to pay more than a penny as an offering I think. Now, what about that wretched secret passage those squids came through?"

"Filled in, walled up, completely covered over, inside and out. No one will ever come that way again."

The next day they held funeral rights for Ser Kevan and he was placed in the tombs of their ancestors, in a wooden coffin nearby Lord Tywin, a place to rest until a proper sarcophagus could be built for him. Later that day Cersei met with all the commanders in a room that was suitably clean and had less of a smell of soot about it. Tommen sat at the head of the table with Cersei and Genna to his sides, while Myrcella was there as well and the two remaining Kingsguards men behind them. Myrcella had been sullen ever since Clegane and the whore had run off, and Cersei had more than once told her Clegane had to pay for his crimes with his head. Myrcella was upset because she had been close to him, but she was a princess and had to learn that anyone who betrayed them had to suffer the consequences.

Also present were Lord Paxter Redwyne and his commanders, plus Ser Lyle Crakehall, called the Strongboar, a big man with the boar of his family emblazoned on his surcoat. When the ironmen had first attacked Lannisport the Strongboar had come back with the army from King's Landing and had gone on to his coastal homelands at Crakehall to defend them from the marauding Iron Fleet. He was now in command of the men gathered here and according to Genna proved to be an able organizer and trainer of the men. Cersei had never taken a liking to the man, for he was of an ilk with Robert, a big man with a loud voice who drank too much, bragged too much, and chased every woman he laid eyes on.

Cersei's first question struck to the heart of their problems. "Where is the Iron Fleet now?"

"Still in the Iron Islands, Your Grace," Lord Redwyne reported. He was of an age with her late father, a tall thin man, with reddish blond beard and hair, but going bald. His homeland was the Arbor, an island known more for its fine wines than its men's prowess in battle. Yet Lord Redwyne commanded the only fleet that might reasonably take on the Iron Fleet so she had to treat him with some courtesy. His wife was also Mace Tyrell's sister, so she had to consider their current alliance and the possibility that Tommen would soon marry Margaery Tyrell.

"And you know this how?" she asked, but in a calm tone.

"I have sent some ships in their waters and they have spied from afar their longships pulled up on the beaches or at their wharves. My ships got in and out and none came out to harass them or run them down, Your Grace."

"Too busy feasting and boasting, no doubt," the Strongboar said in a loud voice. "Drunk on victory, drunk on their new found wealth. They are weak now. I say we attack."

"Attack the Iron Islands?" one of Lord Redwyne's commanders said with a touch of fear in his tone. "With what?"

"With your fleet," Cersei said as if it were obvious. She was warming to the idea. "If they are truly reveling in their victory, now is the time to strike."

"They certainly wouldn't expect it," Lord Redwyne said thoughtfully. He looked at the Strongboar. "How many men do you have, Ser Lyle?"

"Less than ten thousand," the Strongboar replied. "Half of them are too green to face the ironmen. But if you can get the other five thousands of us ashore on Pyke with some proper siege engines we can take the island and the castle. We'll smash them like Robert did ten years ago."

"If we came at them at the dawn, while they still slumbered, we might have a chance," said another commander. "But the winds are always uncertain."

"Then take only your best war galleys and strongest rowers," the Strongboar said.

"Yes, it could work, with luck and the favor of the gods on our side," Lord Redwyne said. "We could take Pyke, raze it, and be gone before any other island could come to its support."

"I want them all razed to the ground," Cersei told them with steel in her tone. "I want every last squid, man, woman, and child, put to the sword."

There was a silence as each man looked at each other, uneasiness in their eyes Cersei could see. Finally it was Myrcella who spoke. "You can't mean it, Mother."

Cersei turned swiftly and glared at her. "I can and I do. They did not spare anyone when they attacked Lannisport."

She thought Myrcella would back down but she didn't. "Aunt Genna said they spared…"

But Cersei interrupted her. "Ser Preston, the Princess is tired. Take her to our quarters."

Ser Preston stepped up behind her chair. "Come, my Princess."

Myrcella stood and now she glared at her mother. "You will never be happy until everyone is dead!" And then she stormed out of the room, with Ser Preston behind her. It was not about the ironmen, it was Clegane and the whore again, Cersei knew.

An awkward silence followed which Cersei tried to smooth over. "She is exhausted. So much has happened. Now, as for my command, you will follow it. Raze the Iron Islands."

Again there was a silence and no one spoke. Even the Strongboar looked uneasy and she knew he was no coward. Finally, Cersei had enough and she slammed her fist on the table.

"You would never have dared disobeyed my father!" she shrieked. "Am I surrounded by fools and cowards?"

That stung them, and now the Strongboar looked at her with anger. "My Queen, we are no cowards. And forgive me, but you are not your father and never will be."

"How dare you! I could have your head for that!" Cersei shouted at him.

Then came a small voice from the head of the table. "No," said Tommen. "We can't kill our own people."

"The King is tired…" Cersei started but this time it was Tommen who interrupted her.

"I am not!" Tommen said loudly and suddenly Cersei knew what was happening. These were strong men here, men who would stand up to her like Tyrion and Jaime would, and Tommen knew he had allies in the room. She had to back down.

"Of course, Your Grace," Cersei said. She turned to Ser Lyle, the Strongboar. "Forgive me, Ser Lyle. I acted rashly."

"As you say, my Queen. But know this. I am a knight. I will not kill women and children and neither will any man I command."

"I must concur with Ser Lyle," Lord Redwyne said. "Your Grace, we all want to destroy the power of the Iron Islands…but to kill every last one of them…no, we cannot do this. Even your husband, our late dear King Robert, he spared any man who bent the knee, even Balon Greyjoy."

"Yes, my great husband," Cersei sneered. "He let them live so they could haunt his son's rule."

"We will not be so charitable," Ser Lyle said. "The men will be cut down if they resist, and thrown in chains if they surrender. I am sure we can find work enough for any prisoners in Lannisport. They can help rebuild what they destroyed. To scour the islands and find and kill the rest…it would take too much effort. Many of our men would balk at such slaughter."

"I see," Cersei said at last, her teeth gritted, knowing she was defeated. "Well at least I know what you have the stomach for now." She made a dismissive motion with her hand. "Go and make your plans and report back on the morrow with the best time to make the attack."

They were dismissed and knew it, stood and bowed to Tommen and her and then left the room. Ser Arys escorted Tommen back to the apartments while Genna and Cersei remained.

"You could have said something," Cersei admonished her.

"I agree with them."

"They attacked us twice! They drove us from our home and killed our people!"

"The men did, not the women and children. And Myrcella is right. They spared most of us when we surrendered."

"Some day they will grow up and be squids and bear more squids," Cersei almost shouted at her.

"Do you want Tommen's rule to begin in horrid bloodshed?"

"Wake up, Genna. Tommen's rule has been soaked in blood from the start."

Cersei stormed out of the room and went down a corridor and out on a balcony. Two guards there dipped their heads to her.

"Leave me," she said and they went back inside, just in the corridor. This was the same balcony where they had watched the Iron Fleet attack so many days ago. She went to the battlements and looked down at the Redwyne fleet. She tried to count the ships but stopped at forty some, her eyes getting tired.

"It must be enough," she thought. "They must succeed."

The next day Lord Redwyne presented his plans. He would take half the fleet to the Iron Islands and leave the other half here as a safeguard in case the Iron Fleet slipped around him. But he planned not to confront the Iron Fleet unless necessary. Get the men ashore on Pyke, defeat any forces there, attack the Greyjoy's castle and take it as swiftly as possible. If they could not take it in a few days they would have to retreat as the Iron Fleet would surely be coming to the rescue.

"What about the rest of the islands?" Cersei asked in a dangerous tone. "What about Harlaw? Surely we must attack there. It has the most people, the most power."

"We cannot linger long or the Iron Fleet will attack us," Lord Redwyne repeated.

"Good. Then you will crush them," Cersei replied. "Then we will have no more fear of these squids."

Again the commanders looked uneasy. "We cannot defeat the Iron Fleet," Lord Redwyne finally admitted.

Cersei snorted. "Certainly not with an attitude like that."

"Your Grace, even with their losses here," Lord Redwyne started. "They still must have at least eighty ships, all strong war galleys. I have the same number here, but I cannot leave the coast undefended. A hit and run raid, at Pyke, could win us a great victory. We can sink any ships there, take prisoners, smash the castle, maybe even kill or capture Victorian, his brother the priest, and his niece. With those three out of the way, they will be leaderless, Your Grace."

Cersei did not like it but she feared leaving the coast undefended and so reluctantly gave her consent. They would sail in two days time, when the moon was bright enough for them to navigate and approach the Iron Islands in the darkness before dawn.

The next day a letter arrived from the Trident front via the Golden Tooth. It was from Tyrion, for Cersei, and it was already many days old. She ripped it open, looking for news about Jaime, but there was none except to say he had gone to Riverrun, which she already knew. The letter was mainly news about the front being quiet now, except for the loss of Saltpans. He also wrote the news that Ned Stark had arrived but had few reinforcements. What good are you Stark, she thought, with so few men? Maybe he would get himself killed and spare her from having to do so after the war. She had little doubt Stark's loyalty's lay with Stannis, and she still stung over his accusations against her and Jaime. The fact that they were true mattered not. And the man still wanted justice for what happened to his son. He wanted Jaime's head, and he couldn't have it. Stark would never give up on that quest and so someday he would have to die.

But the gist of the letter was that it was time Tommen was wed to Margaery Tyrell, a necessity to shore up their alliance with the Tyrells. Tyrion wanted it done swiftly to forestall any dithering over it. Mace Tyrell had agreed, had written letters to his wife and daughter, telling them to have the wedding without him, and Tyrion wanted it done before they changed their minds. Already the Tyrells had sided with first Renly, and then Stannis. Who's to say they would not switch sides again?

Highgarden would be warmer and farther from the fields of battle. There was no question of asking the royal bride to come here. Casterly Rock was hardly suitable for living in let alone a royal wedding. And then there was the costs. At Highgarden the Tyrells would feel obliged to foot most of the bill, not wanting to lose face in front of the southern lords and ladies. The Reach was theirs to rule, but they were not secure in their position. Aegon the Conqueror had defeated the true rulers of the Reach, House Gardener, three hundred years ago. The Tyrells had been the stewards of Highgarden, and only ruled now because Aegon gave their ancestor the title when he surrender Highgarden after his master was dead. There was still some simmering resentment over this, she knew, even three hundred years after the fact.

Cersei found Tommen and Myrcella at their lessons with a maester who she told to leave them. "We are leaving here in a few days," she said.

"Good," Tommen replied. "This place smells funny."

"Where will we go?" Myrcella asked, her voice sullen, her head down, not looking at her mother.

"Highgarden," Cersei told them. "It will be safer for us. And warmer. It is time Tommen met his future wife as well."

Tommen's face flushed. "I do not want to get married!"

Cersei put on her sweetest smile. "My dear King, why don't we meet her first? And if you don't like her, then you don't have to marry her.

Tommen hesitated and then nodded. "Yes. But I won't like her, I promise you."

Cersei was about to leave when Myrcella spoke up. "Tell her."

"No, Cella," Tommen said in a whiny voice, like he did when he had been bad.

"What's this?" Cersei asked, suspicious.

Now Myrcella looked up at her. "The King demands you cancel the order to kill Sandor and Shae."

Cersei stared at her then turned to Tommen who would not look at her. He was just a small boy again, with no men to stand up for him. "They betrayed us, my King. And what do we do with betrayers?"

"Kill them?" he asked like the little boy he was.

"Yes…we kill them."

They said nothing. "Good. Now we shall have no more…"

But now Myrcella stood up and shouted at her mother. "You don't understand anything! He did it for love!"

Cersei was taken aback but quickly recovered. "Did it for love? Explain."

"Sandor…he is love with Sansa."

"Sansa Stark?" Cersei asked, almost laughing aloud but controlling herself. "What nonsense. You must have heard the rumors after the fight. Your uncle only…"

"No, no, no!" Myrcella countered. "They are not rumors. He told me when he was nearly dead. I saw it with my own eyes, I saw them fall in love, on the road to Harrenhal, at Harrenhal. Can't you understand? He took Theon Greyjoy to her father, so he would let them get married!"

"Gods," Cersei said. "Then he is a fool, a fool for loving a woman who could never love him back, a fool for thinking her father would ever forgive him for killing people of his house. That's right, I saw it. The Hound near cut one of Lord Stark's men in two in the throne room at King's Landing when Stark tried to overthrown your brother. And then there was some foolishness over some boy who was friends with his other daughter. He …"

"Arya," Tommen said. "Her name is Arya. She held my hand at the feast."

"Yes, that's right, my King. This boy struck Joffrey and…"

"No, he didn't," Myrcella said. "Sansa lied about that. She told me the truth."

"Well, it is of no matter now. Clegane killed the boy. And know this, the two of you, he betrayed us. He has done many horrible things…even to me. He tried to attack me…in my rooms…I…I was so scared. He wanted me, to…it's too horrible…but I screamed and he ran away. After that he was your uncle's man, not a true Kingsguard man. He…"

"Why do you lie?" Myrcella asked, her eyes full of hate.

Cersei slapped her, hard, and Myrcella was so shocked she could only stare and then burst into tears and fled the room.

"You shouldn't hit her!" Tommen screamed. "Joff used to hit us, do horrible things to us! But you didn't believe us! No more hitting! I am King! No more hitting!" Then he fled as well and as she went after him she saw Ser Arys following him at a trot and so she stopped.

Gods….that did not go well. She had to assert more control over them, but how? They were becoming like Joff…no, they would never be as bad as he had been. She never believed them when they told her Joff used to hit them and play painful jokes on them because she didn't want to believe it. Robert would have hit Joff if he had known, but he was always in such a drunken stupor he knew little and cared less about what the children did. Cersei hardly remembered a time when Robert ever spoke to the children or even acknowledged they existed unless it was for some court function or some ceremony.

When he was determined to ride to Winterfell to talk Stark into being his Hand, he had barely nodded when she said she would not go to Winterfell unless the children came with her. They were alone for a change, sitting in his solar. It was soon after Jon Arryn's funeral, and Robert had that look in his eye, and she knew he was planning something.

"It is time Joffrey was betrothed," he had said, sober for once and thinking clearly.

"He is too young," Cersei had countered.

"He will soon be thirteen," Robert replied, and Cersei was surprised he even knew how old his children were. Not his children, but that was something she never would tell him. But, oh, how she had wanted to throw that in his face later as he lay dying but he was never alone and then the chance passed when he died.

"If you insist, I will start making inquires," Cersei had said that day in the solar. "I am sure there is some wealthy family we could use to shore up our tottering finances."

Robert's face had grown dark. "Spend less on silks and furs and I would not have to go like a beggar to your father to put meat on our table."

"I will spend less on clothing the day you spend less on wine and whores."

"Don't try me woman," he had growled. "I am in no mood for it. My Hand, my friend…he is dead. I already have a bride in mind. I need Ned Stark. I need his family tied to ours. He has a daughter Joffrey's age. She…"

"Good gods, Robert, are you mad?" she said in a shrill voice. "A girl born in some northern hovel is not fit to be Joffrey's bride, nor a future queen. She can't have…"

"Silence!" he bellowed and he rose from his chair and his face was flushed. "She is a Stark, one of the greatest families of our kingdoms. She comes from good stock. Her mother had five children and never lost one. You can be sure Lady Catelyn brought her up properly and as a lady should be raised, so you needn't worry about her tracking mud through our fancy halls. I need the North. I need Ned. Joffrey will marry her."

Cersei seethed and shook her head in disgust. "You never think about the consequences, do you? The other great families will be insulted. We will lose more friends than we gain from this marriage. The Tyrells have a daughter. So do some of my father's loyal bannermen."

"Piss on them all," Robert answered in anger. "It is decided. We leave in two days. Have the children ready. Now, I have the King's business to attend to." He made ready to leave but her words stopped him cold.

"Which whore is waiting for you? The redhead or the blond?"

He sighed. "Woman, someday you will go too far."

"When we go to Winterfell you will leave your whores behind," she said, ignoring his threats. "You will touch no woman while we are there. I do not want my children knowing you care not for their mother."

"As you wish," he replied. "But be ready to have your legs spread when I come to bed. If I cannot get what I need from someone else, I will take it from you."

Only twice he came to her bed on the road to Winterfell, both times so drunk he passed out after a few rough kisses and a squeeze or two on her teats. Jaime was seething in anger even though she told him Robert had barely touched her. After that Robert let her be. She was sure he found a way to lay with some whore in Winterfell, but by then she cared not. Jaime had pushed the boy from the window, and suddenly for the first time she was afraid, afraid of what Robert and Ned Stark would do if they knew the truth. Jaime would die, and maybe her and her children as well. She wanted to flee Winterfell and was never so happy as the day they left. But Stark and the two girls came with them and then all of the consequences of those days in Winterfell came home to King's Landing and beyond.

Later Cersei found Tommen and Myrcella in the quarters they all shared. Both looked contrite as she sat down at the table with them. First she apologized to Myrcella for striking her. Then she apologized for not believing them about Joffrey and said she did believe them now. But they had to never speak back to her publicly or privately again. She was their mother and knew what was best for them. She then gave a long lecture on their duty, one her father had once said to her and her brothers. She told them that they belonged to the realm, and must act accordingly and not shame the family name or its legacy.

"Which family?" Myrcella asked. "Baratheon or Lannister?" She had a look in her eye Cersei did not like.

"Why both of course. Your father's and your mother's families are equally important."

Tommen looked like he wanted to say something, but Cersei saw Myrcella quickly give him a look and he remained silent. Cersei was about to ask them what it was about and suddenly she knew. They knew. Somehow they knew the truth, or at least suspected it.

How? But of course they must have heard rumors. Joffrey had asked Jaime about it back in King's Landing, and Jaime had denied it. Maybe Joff told them, in his cruel heart thinking to hurt them by saying their uncle was their father. No…even Joff would not be so stupid. He knew his claim was based on Robert being his true father. He would never do anything to put that in danger. He wanted to be king more than anything in the world.

But others may have misspoken in their presence. So many people knew of the rumors it may have been impossible to hide. She had to find out. Now.

"You may have heard some nasty rumors…" she began but Myrcella interrupted her.

"No, we have heard nothing. Right, Tommen?"

"Yes. Nothing," Tommen aped her.

"Nothing? At all?" Cersei asked.

"No," Myrcella said. "And if we had we wouldn't believe them. Because if they were true it would be horrid. And if they were really true Tommen couldn't be King and I couldn't be a Princess."

Her voice was calm and her eyes were steady as she looked at her mother. This ten year old girl, nearer eleven than not, this little wisp of nothing had cut right to the heart of it all.

Cersei found herself breathing hard and had to fight to stop it. Then she spoke. "Good. Then let us speak no more about it."

She started to get up but then Tommen spoke. "Why did you hate our father?"

That so unnerved her she faltered and had to catch the back of her chair. "I don't…didn't hate your father."

"Then why…" Tommen started but Myrcella shut him up.

"Enough!" she said with a choked voice and tears in her eyes. "If we speak of it, then it will be true. Then you can't be King and I can't be a Princess. So we can never speak of it."

Tommen started to cry as well. Soon the two of them were bawling. All Cersei could do was squeeze the back of the chair tight and let them cry. "It's time for bed," she finally managed to say. Then Tommen shocked her to her very core.

"Are you our mother?" Tommen asked through his tears and Cersei could stand it no more and the facade broke and she wept and came to their sides and held them tight and cried with them.

"Yes, I am your mother and always will be," she whispered. "We must be brave, my darlings. Many people want to harm us, to harm our family. We mustn't let that happen. We must be brave and defend what is ours. We must avenge our family, take revenge on all those who seek to harm us. We cannot do that here. We must go, to Highgarden, to find new friends, who will protect us and help us."

A short time later they went to bed, all three of them, but Cersei could still hear them weeping and for a long time she lay in bed and wondered if the gods were now exacting the debt she owed them for so many things she had done that had offended them.

The next day they spoke no more on the terrible subject and prepared to see off the fleet. Thankfully it was a sunny day with enough wind offshore to help the ships sail away. After a septon blessed the fleet and its small land force, Lord Redwyne and Ser Lyle bowed before their King. Tommen wished them luck and the two leaders were rowed out to Lord Redwyne's flagship. Within an hour the fleet bound for the Iron Islands was gone over the horizon. Cersei hoped they would do their duty. But in case it turned out to be a shambles once again, she and her children would be far away from here.

Genna was against it, of course. "You know not the roads south of here, whether good or bad," she cautioned. "The weather could turn bad as well. Better to stay here."

"And wait for the squids or the Others?" Cersei countered. "No. Tommen will be married and in Highgarden we will be safer. You should come as well."

Genna shook her head. "No. I will stay here, with my dead brothers. Someone must. My sons are still at the Twins with their father's kin. I must await word of them as well."

Cersei had no time to argue with her. The same men who had escorted them from the Golden Tooth now formed ranks again. Cersei took two large chests of gold and silver for their expenses and told Genna she might need send more to Highgarden if the Tyrells balked at paying for the wedding.

On a cloudy cold day they left Casterly Rock, once more in their snug carriage, but this time the children were both sullen and moody and hardly any words passed between them. A maester Cersei had ordered to come with the party and after the first day she had him ride with them in the carriage to give the children lessons, mainly on the history of the Reach and the names of the noble lords and ladies of that land. The mood lightened as the children became more interested in their trip and their final destination.

The journey was slow as the Ocean Road south was badly maintained, full of ruts and potholes, washed away in spots and so close to the ocean cliffs in others that they had to pass slowly and in single file. After three days they reached Crakehall and Cersei ordered a rest for a day. It was a fatal mistake, one she would regret for the rest of her life.

A sickness was on Crakehall, a coughing, wheezing sickness that filled the chest with fluid and gave fevers and chills. The old maester who served House Crakehall told Cersei that more than twenty had died of it already, including six children. Cersei wanted to be far away the next morning, but a sudden snow squall kept them bound to the castle for another day. By the time they got on the road again the next day it was too late.

Tommen's first cough she thought nothing of, for he had just swallowed some tea when he coughed it up.

"Went down wrong," he said and she helped him clean the front of his cloak and furs. The second cough came soon after, and then he could not stop. The maester had them halt the carriage and he applied a hot poultice to Tommen's chest and the King was soon feeling better. But then Myrcella began to cough as well and by nightfall Cersei was feeling the sickness herself, as was the maester.

They stopped at a large roadside inn and took rooms. By morning Tommen, Myrcella, Cersei and ten men of the guard were all ill, as was Ser Preston and the maester. The innkeeper would have kicked them out if they hadn't been royals, Ser Arys told her in the morning. By then the maester was so ill he could not leave his bed. Cersei demanded a maester be found but none lived in the region. They had to press on. Later she learned the maester had died. She couldn't even remember his name.

It took two days to reach the fortress and town of Old Oak halfway between Crakehall and Highgarden and here a maester was found but he could do little for them as he was young and had no great skill. By now Tommen and Myrcella were bathed in sweat, coughing at all times, full of chills and fever, and Cersei could barely get out of her own sick bed to attend them. Five of the guards had died and another twenty were sick. Ser Preston seemed to be recovering and that was a good sign, but Tommen and Myrcella remained ill.

"Highgarden," she managed to croak to the young maester and to the lord of Old Oak. "Send word. We need their best maesters for the King."

"By the time a message arrives and a maester returns, it may be too late," Ser Arys said. "It would be faster if we rode there, my Queen."

And so once more they took to the carriage, which Cersei had come to hate. On they rode for two more days, stopping each night at inns, and the people were scared and shunned them and offered hardly any help despite her men threatening them with death if they did not help their King and his sister and mother. She the children fought and held on and then Cersei remembered no more. A fever was on her and she was delirious, alternating sweating and freezing as if she had turned to ice.

Then came the fever dreams.

The first was of her mother. Beautiful and blond Lady Joanna had been. "Why my daughter? Why did you do it?"

Cersei knew what she meant. "I love him," she answered.

"Of course you should love him. But not in that way."

Cersei scoffed at her. "You married your cousin."

"I did. But that is no crime in the eyes of gods and men. Your father never knew, but I did. The gods took me away too soon to stop you. You blame Tyrion but it was never his fault. You are so full of hate. Let it go or the gods will punish you."

"I have no fear of the gods!" she shouted.

"Yes, you do," her mother replied and then she was gone.

Next came the little stump of a woman named Maggy the Frog who had told her fortune that time. "Six and ten children your husband shall have while you shall have three. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds."

"Liar!" Cersei screeched at her and then she was stabbing her over and over with a dagger.

Then came a face Cersei barely remembered. A young girl maybe fourteen years of age, and she was dripping wet with water and had maggots crawling over her flesh. "Why, Cersei? Why did you push me?" Melara Heatherspoon asked in a horrible croak as if her throat was filled with something.

"You wanted Jaime," Cersei told her. "He was not yours. He was mine! Always!"

Then came Jaime. "Why Lancel? Why anyone?" he asked in a pleading tone. "I never betrayed our love. Why did you?"

"I needed Lancel. I needed him to help me kill Robert."

"I would have killed Robert in a heartbeat if you had asked."

"You would have tried, Kingslayer," Robert said as he stood there by Jaime's side. "And I would have crushed you."

Jaime smirked. "Big words from a dead man."

Robert laughed in his bellowing way. "Dead? Who said I was dead?" And then as if by some magic his great war hammer appeared in his strong right hand and he was swinging it and crushing Jaime's skull into nothing but blood and brains and bone. Then he turned to Cersei.

"You betrayed me, you whore. You and those abominations you call our children must die!"

With a vicious grin of satisfaction on his face Robert lifted his arm and the bloody hammer swung her way and she screamed and all went black before her eyes.

Then Cersei felt as if she was awake and her eyes opened. She felt hot, but not as hot, and it was the heavy blankets she was under. Her body was drenched in sweat but she felt better than before. Her eyes took in the room she was in and it seemed ornate, almost lavish, with a canopy above her bed and beautiful furnishings around her. Warmth came from an open window and it looked sunny outside.

"Where…?" she started to ask but could only speak the one word, her throat was so raw. Quickly someone was by her bedside, a young woman with brown hair, who gave her some water in a cup to sip. She felt her throat getting better and then asked. "Where am I?"

"Highgarden," said a voice, a woman's and then she stepped forward next to the girl with the water. She was tall and thin, with long silvery colored hair, and had a regal bearing about her. For one brief moment Cersei was reminded of the Targaryen women she had met in her youth and with a shock she believed this might be Daenerys Targaryen. But no, this woman was older, maybe older than Cersei by ten years by the lines in her face. Her face was also very sad.

"I am Alerie Tyrell, wife of Lord Mace Tyrell," she said. "We met once many years ago in King's Landing, Your Grace."

Cersei remembered but cared little who she was. She had only one thing to ask. "My children?"

"The Queen is well, her fever passed, and she is up and about."

"The…Queen? I am the Queen," Cersei protested, not quite grasping what this fool was saying to her.

"Queen Myrcella, I meant," said Alerie, her sad eyes on Cersei's as she stood very close to her bedside. "I am sorry, Your Grace, but King Tommen…he died yesterday morning. There was nothing that the maesters could do for him."

No, no, no, this can't be true. Not my poor little boy, not him too. She felt the scream well up inside her and it came out in a terrible screech that tore her heart in two. Then she felt arms on her and people shouted and she flailed against them and fought them and screamed some more. Then a cup was at her lips and liquid was going down her throat and it was sweet and heady and she felt the world spinning and then the darkness came and with sweet relief she felt herself slipping into the warm comfort of the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5 Sansa

**Ned Stark Lives****!**** Part 3 Chapter 5 Sansa**

The din of their arguing was giving her a headache, but Sansa Stark made no sign of discomfort or that she even heard them. She was silent, standing next to her older brother Robb, both of them behind their father's chair in the pavilion of King Stannis in the great army camp near the Trident River's Ruby Ford. Last night she had been angry with her father, had wanted to scream at him and plead with him, to make him see that she could not help how she felt for a man she shouldn't be in love with. But to do that she would have had to admit to that love, and she could not, not after he told her it could never be. Today she had to put all that aside and be the dutiful daughter, remembering who she was and where they were and why, and so she was caring for her father. He was still weak and had to use the stick for walking, and she felt bad for being angry when she saw him in the morning. They barely spoke to each other at the breakfast table, avoiding each other's eyes, as if they wanted to forget they had argued. Robb sensed something was wrong but said nothing.

Later, as they walked through the Lannister camp and then crossed the ice that covered the Ruby Ford, she had to take her father's arm more than once, and Robb did the same. Lord Stark refused to mount a horse Tyron Lannister had sent him, saying he would never learn to walk properly again if he did not try. As they walked along the north bank of the Trident and came into King Stannis' camp she saw more than one person look at him, some with pity in their eyes, though others looked on him with respect and nods of their heads. Yet still more, many more, had looks of disappointment as if they were upset about something.

Then there were the looks of worry, especially from her father's old friends, Lord Royce among them. Sansa had met him once when his son had gone north to join the Night's Watch and later died north of the Wall in an attack in what Robb told her was one of the first signs the Others were more than myth. Lord Royce had long ago helped foster her father and Robert Baratheon in their youth when they lived in the Vale. Now when they greeted each other outside the King's pavilion before the meeting Sansa could see right away Lord Royce looked concerned about her father's condition.

"My lord, we have need of you on a horse wielding a sword, not in a sick bed," Lord Royce commented after they warmly greeted each other and her father introduced her and Robb.

"Aye, I wish it were so," Sansa's father had replied. "It may be many days yet before that is the way of things. At least I can offer my words and advice."

Lord Royce sighed. "They are sorely needed indeed. They squabble and bicker and none wants to take orders from any others. They named Lannister lord commander but it is a hollow title. All look at each other with suspicion and nurse old and fresh wounds caused by real or perceived insults. The Kingslayer has already challenged me, and Ser Loras and Lyn Corbray came near to blows. I am afraid your coming may cause even more rancor. Old friends are here, but old and new enemies as well."

"Baelish," Ned Stark spat, the name seemingly a foul taste in his mouth. "We have heard Baelish married my wife's sister. What is the truth of this?"

"Yes, it is all true" Lord Royce replied, his mood darkening. "Long have I known she pined for him, but how he wormed his way into taking control of the Vale was something I had not expected. He arrived almost two moons ago, claiming King Stannis sent him to win our support. But he hardly made any effort to drum up such support, and spent his days with Lady Lysa. Soon they announced their marriage, without even the decency of a betrothal period. Said their words before a septon they did, and not even a cloak was exchanged before she dragged him off to the marriage bed. No dinner, no music, no wine, no bedding ceremony, and only a few servants and her son for witnesses. Can it be called a true marriage?"

"Aye, it can," Ned replied in a grudging way. "The words are enough. The rest is just ceremony. Did anyone protest?"

"We did, after the fact, if you will, but Lady Lysa would hear not a sour word about her great love. Soon she named him Lord Protector of the Vale and placed all our strength under his command. I had strong words with her about this, for Baelish is no leader of armed men, but she shrieked at me that she only trusted Baelish with the safety of her weakly son. Now Baelish seems intent on grooming young Robert Arryn in his own manner. How he managed to convince her to let us come out and help the realm, only the gods know."

"There is always a way to deal with such men." Ned replied, his voice low.

Lord Royce nodded slightly and then looked warily at Sansa and Robb.

"My children have reasons as well to despise him. Fear not to speak your mind, my lord," Ned told Lord Royce.

"I wish it were so easy," Lord Royce replied, his eyes glancing about, looking for eavesdroppers no doubt.

"Many men die on the field of battle," Robb said. "And not always by the enemy's sword."

"If only the worm took part in battle," Lord Royce countered. "Alas, he stays far behind and well protected. Lyn Corbray seems well deep in his pocket as well."

"Corbray?" Ned Stark said in surprise. "I thought of all men he would hate Baelish the most. Corbray's family never suffered anyone to harm the Arryn good name."

"Times change, my lord. Corbray at first claimed to despise Baelish and wanted to challenge him to single combat. But of course that came to nothing. Now they seem cordial at least, though Corbray still has harsh words for Littlefinger when in the company of others. Then one of my men saw Corbray entering Littlefinger's tent one evening. He stayed a long time and Baelish still lived in the morning. And on the march here…" Just then a herald blew a trumpet outside of King Stannis' pavilion. "Ah, it seems the meeting is called. Come, let us find out what these fools will fight about today."

Inside it was crowded with many lords and other men, all the lords sitting at a long table and many armed men standing behind their chairs. Now more looks came her father's way, Sansa saw, as she helped him sit and took the walking stick away from him. She saw more looks of pity and worry that Lord Stark was infirmed. Also she later learned they were disappointed that he had brought so few men to their cause. Some of them seemed also to look down their noses at her and her family.

That was a look she saw on Mace Tyrell's face, though he no reason to look so haughty and superior to her father. She had never met him but Robb whispered to her who he was when she asked and she should have known by the large golden rose displayed on his clothing. The fat lord of the Reach was infirmed as well as her father, with a broken leg it seemed. He had to sit his fat behind on a soft chair and have a footstool and a cushion for his leg. He and no others had cause to be act so superior or to be disappointed in her father or the North. Hadn't they heard how the North had fought and bled while they stayed safe in their homes? If not for what her father and brother and many others had done, the Others would have run riot over all of Westeros by now.

"They think they are better than us," she whispered to Robb.

"Southern lords," Robb replied with a touch of anger, his words almost an oath.

"Yet some of them seem to look on Father with pity," she whispered to Robb next.

"Aye," Robb whispered back. "But not all." He nodded across the table to where Petyr Baelish was seated.

He was staring at her now, and she grew uncomfortable from his looks. She recalled such looks he had given her in King's Landing, back when she was a bit younger and less wise. Now she understood what the looks meant. But that would never happen. She would kill herself first. He had tried to turn Jeyne into one of his whores and for that she would never forgive him. And if the stories her father and mother told were true, and she had no reason to doubt them, then Baelish was the one who started this war they had suffered and which made the realm so unprepared to fight the Others. The last time she had seen him he was being arrested in King's Landing but somehow he had survived that and was now firmly on King Stannis' side. Which was her family's side as well. The King refused to let her father harm him, but she somehow knew that was not the end of it.

Next to Lord Baelish sat Lord Royce and Sansa then noticed a handsome man in armor who stood behind Lord Royce.

"Ser Lyn Corbray," Robb whispered to her. "A dangerous man."

How Robb knew who he was Sansa did not know but she had no time to ask as then King Stannis entered the pavilion and many lords stood up. But many more did not, and Stannis ignored them all as he took his seat at the head of the table next to Baelish. "Good, we are all here at last," King Stannis said as those who had stood sat again. On the table food was already laid out, goblets filled with wine as well, but no one seemed to be eating and only a few had taken wine. There were several maps nearby the King's seat but Sansa could not make out what was on the maps.

Besides Baelish and the Tyrell lords, which included the dashing and handsome Ser Loras standing behind his father's chair, and the other lords from the Vale, there was the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, sitting across the table from her father and next to Lord Royce. Behind the Imp stood the sellsword Bronn, now Lord Bronn she had learned. And, of course, Sandor was with them.

This was the first time she had seen him since her terrible conversation with her father the night before. She had sobbed herself to sleep, horrified that her father knew the truth, and heartbroken that he would never allow anything to be between them. When she awoke, Sansa thought she must run away, or defy her father and do as she pleased. But then she thought it through and knew it was stupid. Where would she go? What would she do? She did not even know if he felt the same for her. Her father had thought he did, but that didn't make it true.

At breakfast she saw how weak he still was and let her anger go somewhat. They had barely said good morning to each other and seemed to have a silent understanding not to talk about last night. But now it all came flooding back and she could not help but look across the table at Sandor.

The scarred face she had turned away from so often in King's Landing was still there, but now it did not frighten her. It was part of him and always would be and she knew what pain and torment he had suffered most of his life because of his scars. He avoided the look she gave him, deliberately so, staring straight ahead. Bronn was not so shy, and looked to her and then to Sandor and back to her, all the while with a sly grin on his face. He knows, she suddenly understood. Tyrion Lannister was also looking at her, and she saw pity in his eyes. _H__e knows, they all know__!_ It must be true, what her father suspected. She felt her breath catch and her heart was pounding, and she knew her cheeks were flushed. Then Baelish spoke to her father and Sansa turned back toward them, glad for the distraction.

"Lord Stark," Baelish began. "It has been a long time."

She felt her father's anger as he replied in a loud voice. "Aye…King's Landing. The last time we met you were accusing Tyrion Lannister of trying to kill my son."

The low hum of talk amongst the others stopped immediately and she saw King Stannis' face grow dark. "There is no time for this," he said through gritted teeth.

"Your Grace, if you would allow me to address these lies, I…" Baelish started but Tyrion interrupted him.

"With more lies?" he asked as he stared down the table at Baelish with his mismatched eyes.

"I have already been questioned at length over this matter by your sister," Baelish replied.

"Ah, my sister," Tyrion said with some contempt in his voice. "She only let you go because she feared our coffers would grow poorer. Not that that is of much your concern anymore. Since then you have changed cloaks, more than once it seems, so you know what my family thinks of you. Shall Lord Stark and I draw lots to see who gets to take your head from your wretched body? I think you would rather Lord Stark win, for he would kill you with one blow of his great sword. I, however, would make it last much longer."

"Enough of this babbling," Stannis said sternly. "This matter must be put aside for the sake of the realm. That is why we are all here, is it not?"

"Aye," her father answered. "But when the war with the Others is done, I shall have satisfaction."

"Would it help matters if I agree to submit to an inquiry when the war is done?" Baelish asked.

Her father seemed to hesitate, but then nodded. "It will do…for now."

"I suppose so," Tyrion said grudgingly.

Stannis grunted. "Then let it be so. Now, let us get on with the business of the war. Just an hour past we had a rider from the Twins. The Others fell on them in force five days past and took the east bank tower. For now the west bank is still in Lord Frey's hands, but for how long is uncertain. With the Green Fork frozen, the demons can easily assail the west tower from all sides."

That caused a lot of consternation and cross talk and it was how Sansa started getting her headache. More than one voice said the Frey's were lost and should retreat while they could but that decision would have to be theirs and theirs alone as there was no way to get messages or any help to them in a timely manner. Finally her father's voice rose above the din. "The Others strategy is clear now. They cannot break the lines here so they are attacking the supply bases and areas they already bypassed. They know we cannot stay here forever, do not have the food to last a very long winter. They are playing for a long war…a war we cannot hope to outlast them in."

"Strategy? From the Others?" scoffed Lord Tyrell. "Come, Lord Stark, these beasts do not think the way men do. Do they?" He sounded a bit uncertain with his last query.

"No, they don't," Sansa's father replied. "Because they are not men. They don't care for sleep or food or warmth. They can outlast us, mark my words."

"Is that why you ran from the North?" Ser Loras asked with a sneer.

"Run?" Robb said in anger. "You dare call us cowards, we who stood by the Wall when it fell and suffered a siege of our home and lost many good people? I hear you southern flowers are the ones who did the running when the Others attacked you in the night."

Now Ser Loras seemed to blush. "We were caught unawares. We…"

But his father raised a hand and glared at him and Ser Loras stopped. "My son means no insult, my lords. Just…we would like to know what happened in the North. Why did the Wall fall? How did they get so far?"

Now all eyes were on Sansa's father and he sighed wearily. "Aye, we ran, and were glad we had the chance. The Wall fell…because of...it fell because Jon blew a horn."

Sansa had hoped this truth would never be known for Jon's sake but her father was not one to hide the truth and so it had to come out. His words caused a barrage of questions and a long time later the details were finished being told. Many were angry and said Jon should pay for his stupidity, and Sansa wanted to scream out the other truth, that Jon was the Prince reborn and was trying to save them all, but her father and Robb said nothing about this and so she stayed silent as well. Tyrion Lannister knew this truth and so did the King, her father had said, but they also remained silent.

Then Lord Royce spoke and his words held much wisdom. "The deed is done and cannot be undone. What Jon Snow did is not our concern. It seems he unwittingly did it, and forces out of his control caused the Wall to collapse. Wishing it weren't so won't make it not. We have an enemy before us. There seems to be something to what Lord Stark says. They are trying to weaken us and will play for a long war."

"We cannot win a long war," Tyrion said and no one disagreed with him.

"We must bring the war to them, now," said one of King Stannis' men, a man Sansa did not know and Robb whispered no name so perhaps he did not know as well. She knew he was King Stannis' man by the sigil on his surcoat. He was fair haired, his blond hair was almost white, and he was handsome enough.

Tyron Lannister made a scoffing sound. "Yes, bring the war to them. And where, Ser Justin, do you propose we find them?"

"At the Twins," said Mace Tyrell. "That is where the war is now."

"The Twins is a good ten days march north," Sansa's father told them. "With a long supply line behind us. And it is getting colder. Winter has come and it will not end soon."

"Indeed," added Tyrion. "Stretched out on the Kingsroad, hungry, cold…and then they come at us from all sides. No, thank you, my lords, I do not want to die that way."

"Nor I," Stannis added. "I will not send my men up the Kingsroad with our flanks in the air, not while we have strong defenses here."

"The Vale will follow the King's commands," Lord Royce stated strongly, seemingly before Baelish could say anything. Lord Baelish smiled and nodded to Lord Royce, who refused to look at him.

All eyes turned to Mace Tyrell, who now sighed loudly. "It seems I am out voted. Very well, we will stay as well, though I do not like it, all this waiting…to die."

"Aye," said Sansa father. "But we need time…we need more time."

"Time for what?" Ser Loras asked.

"Help," Ned Stark replied. "Every man who can carry a blade must be summoned."

"It has been done," Stannis told him. "Ravens and riders have been sent. Each day some numbers come up the Kingsroad, but fewer than we hoped and fewer still with proper training. Our losses have been very great, from the battles and the cold. Fresh levies are nowhere to be found. I fear we will soon have to arm the children and the greybeards."

"It is true. All that is left in the kingdoms is the dregs, and the old and the young," said another lord Sansa did not know, a huge man with a sigil that was a bowman, a hunter it seemed, on a green field. He sat next to Lord Tyrell. "All the good men are here…or dead. No, Lord Stark, I fear we can expect no help from anywhere."

"You are forgetting Dorne, Lord Tarly," Ned Stark said. The name Tarly seemed familiar to Sansa but she could not place it at the moment.

"Dorne?" the man Tyrion had called Ser Justin said in a scoffing manner, with a hint of mirth in his tone as well. "All Dorishmen are good for…"

"That's enough," Stannis said sharply to his man. "Dorne would be most welcome but they have no love for any of us. I fear we cannot depend on them."

"Envoys and letters I have sent to inquire as to their intentions, my lords," Tyrion said. "I have received nothing but silence from Sunspear."

"Surely they must know the Others are walking again by now," Ned Stark said in almost exasperation. "Has not one of you sent them word of this?"

Silence greeted this question and finally Tyrion spoke. "The man I sent last knew of some of this but how much Dorne will believe him is uncertain."

"Even if he has word of the Others, Prince Doran is forever taking his time over all matters," Lord Tyrell said. "No, we cannot depend on Dorne."

"I will send a raven to Sunspear but do not hold out any hope for them joining us," Stannis said. "Even if they agree, it will take a moon's turn or more for them to arrive in any force."

"There is someone closer," Tyrion said next.

"Who?" Mace Tyrell asked, sounding like a fat owl to Sansa's ears.

"This pretender…Prince Aegon, as he styles himself," Tyrion replied.

Stannis' face grew dark. "We will not treat with such. I thought we had agreed his demise is to the benefit of us all?"

"But if he has the Golden Company, Your Grace," Baelish said, speaking for the first time. "And elephants…perhaps there is some way to deal with him, my King."

"Deal? He will want our heads, all of us, pretender or not," Stannis said strongly.

"Perhaps an envoy," Baelish said in a fawning manner. "One who could bring him terms to discuss…"

"Never!" Stannis snapped. "There will be no terms with anyone calling themselves Targaryen. Many of us here fought to end them and their madness. And you ask us to deal with one calling himself the name of the old enemy? I think not."

Baelish nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. As you command."

"My King," Sansa's father began. "This pretender…Targaryen or not…he has strong forces. Yet the Others will crush him as well when we are all dead. He must see reason and join us."

"Reason? He is a boy by all accounts," Stannis said in irritation. "Since when do boys listen to reason?"

"He will have good advisors," Tyrion said. "Men who will see the danger we all face. Men who could convince him to make terms."

"Never!" Stannis snapped again. Then he struggled to calm himself. "It seems we have wasted our time here this morning, my lords. There is nothing to do but wait, strengthen our defenses, and send out more patrols and hope to fall on some group of Others unawares if that is possible." He turned to Tyrion. "Where are your brother and the Tullys now?"

"Returning here soon, I had hoped, but we have had no word."

Stannis nodded to show he had heard and turned to Sansa's father. "Lord Stark, bring your men up the Trident as soon as you can and place them on my left between my men and the Lannisters."

"At once, Your Grace," her father replied. Then Stannis stood and left without another word.

A silence greeted this and finally Tyrion spoke. "I believe that is the end of the meeting, my lords."

Baelish was the first to leave, rising quickly to follow the King, Sansa guessed. Lord Royce rose next, and the other lords of the Vale did as well. Corbray followed Lord Royce and they were talking as they left the pavilion. Tyrion rose next and left quickly followed by Bronn and Sandor, who still refused to look at her. Sansa wanted to follow him but knew she had to stay behind with her father.

Ser Loras and Lord Tarly helped Lord Tyrell up and he was helped from the pavilion by some strong men. Ser Loras followed his father but Lord Tarly stayed behind. He took a chair near Sansa's father.

"Lord Stark," he said in a gruff voice. "Seems we are to be allies this time."

"Aye," her father replied. Sansa's wondered what they meant by that and dimly recalled some lesson of Maester Luwin's. Her father and King Robert had fought against Lord Tarly during the rebellion. Not everyone in the pavilion had sided against the Targaryens.

"I was grieved to hear of your wounding, my lord," Lord Tarly said next. "We hear you nearly died."

"The gods have seen fit to let me stay to do some more good it seems," Ned replied.

"This time we shall do it together."

"Aye…if we can keep them together. Too much bad blood is still between many of us. And some others should learn to hold their tongues."

Lord Tarly grunted. "If you mean Loras, not to worry. He speaks too rashly at times, but it is the impatience of youth more than anything. He meant no insult. Truth be told it shames me to say we all did some running that night they attacked us. We knew not what the enemy was, despite reports we had from the North and from those who had already fought them. Now we are better prepared."

"Your sword, my lord," Robb asked him, nodding to a large sword than Lord Tarly wore strapped to his back. "Is it Valyrian steel?"

"It is…and it cut through the wights like butter and burned them when they fell. It even killed an Other, turning it to nothing but ice and snow. Though I suspect you know this already."

"Aye," Ned told him. "Now you are the second Tarly to kill an Other."

Lord Tarly looked at him in confusion. "The second…what do you mean, my lord?"

"Your son, Sam," Robb began. "He was the first to kill an Other in 8000 years. With a dragonglass dagger, north of the Wall."

"Sam?" Lord Tarly said in surprise. Then his face grew dark again. "No, you must be mistaken. Sam is a craven who would piss his breeches if he saw an Other. He could not kill a mouse, let alone an Other."

"He did kill one, by himself," Ned Stark told him in strong words. "He killed another one by my side with my help. Sam is no craven. He has proved himself a man a hundred times over, my lord. He stood by his brothers on the Wall and fought the wildlings and the wights and Others. He befriended Jon when he had no friends. He has even fallen in love with a girl if what I hear is true."

They could see Tarly found it hard to believe. "Sam? It can't be true. Can it?"

He was looking at Sansa. "Yes, my lord. I heard it all," she said. "The men of the Night's Watch call him Sam the Slayer. The girl's name is Gilly…she is…a wildling woman, my lord, though she is fair to look on and is kind and gentle." Sansa did not mention her baby, for that would be too hard to explain, how she had a baby whose father was her own father.

"Sam saved the girl's life," Robb added, and he did not mention the baby either.

Tarly was a big man, strong and gruff looking, his face as hard as stone, but now Sansa saw a gleam of emotion in his eyes. "My son…he has killed enemies of ours? He has a woman? Does…does he still live?"

"Aye," Ned told him.

"Where is he now?"

Her father hesitated. "I am sorry…but he has gone north of the Wall with Jon and some others."

"Gone north…but why?"

Robb supplied the answer. "To find the homeland of the Others…and to slay the Great Other if such a being even exists."

The pavilion was empty now except for them and in hushed tones Ned Stark, Sansa and Robb explained as best they could to Lord Tarly, even about Jon being the Prince. When they were done Lord Tarly swore to keep the secret even from his own lord and when he stood up he seemed to be taller and stronger if that was possible.

"Then we must stay here and fight. To give Jon and Sam a chance," he said. "To give the realm a chance."

Sansa's father rose up and Sansa went to help him but he shook her off and stood by himself. "We must convince the King to call on this one naming himself Prince Aegon for help."

"He is not my King," Lord Tarly said, his mood darkening again.

Her father sighed. "There is still bad blood between you, aye. The last we heard Stannis had Ser Loras and his sister captive in King's Landing."

"They were. But somehow they were set free. Loras said a strange man came and killed their guards and took them to a boat and spirited them away to rejoin his father's army. Who the man was he never said and he was gone when we went to question him."

"Few men could do such a job," Ned Stark said. "Fewer still would not wait for their reward…unless he had already received it."

"Few men on this side of the Narrow Sea could do such a thing," Lord Tarly replied. "Yes, we as well suspected it was a paid expert in such things…perhaps even a Faceless Man."

"I know little of such men," Sansa's father replied, and Sansa was completely confused, not knowing who or what they were talking about. "But I hear they are expensive," her father continued. "Who could pay such a price?"

"The Imp," Lord Tarly replied. "Though he has not owned up to it as yet as far as I know."

"Tyrion Lannister?" Robb asked. "But why would he do that?"

"He wants Margaery to marry King Tommen," the answer came from Lord Tarly. "He wants our strength on his side. And now he has it, even without acknowledging it was he who helped free Loras and Margaery. At least not to my knowledge, though my Lord Tyrell may know differently. So now Highgarden and Casterly Rock are as one. I am afraid my lords, my lady, we may be on opposite sides again when the Others are defeated."

"Then we must do all we can to end this bickering," Sansa's father said.

Tarly shook his head. "I am afraid that will take more than words, my lord. Ser Loras wants Stannis' head. Ser Jaime wants Lord Royce's. And you and the Imp both want Baelish's and Theon Greyjoy's I hear. How can we become one realm again with so much blood being called for?"

"I know not," her father reluctantly answered and with that Lord Tarly bid them good day.

"What is a Faceless Man?" Sansa asked when they were alone.

"An assassin," Robb told her. "From Braavos."

"Expensive assassins," her father added. "If Tyrion hired one to free the Tyrells it surely cost him much. Come, let us see to getting our men here from Saltpans."

They exited the pavilion and went out into the cold air. The sun was peeking through some clouds but the sky was getting dark and it seemed like it might snow or rain later. A half hour later they were back in their little house in the Lannister camp south of the Trident. Robb thought they should move closer to Stannis and their father agreed they would have to move when their men came into the front lines. Lord Stark then wrote a letter and asked Robb to find Tyrion Lannister and have one of his men take it to Saltpans and give the message to the commander of the men on the ships there. Ser Wendel Manderly arrived soon after Robb left, a bit put out he had missed the commander's meeting. Apparently he had slept the morning away, and looked sheepish as he explained his absence.

"You did not miss much," Sansa's father told him as Ser Wendel joined him at the table for a cup of wine. As her father began to explain what went on, Sansa rose and meant to leave the house but her father's voice stopped her.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To find where the wounded are," she replied. "I feel useless just sitting around."

"Aye, but do not wander far." She said she wouldn't and meant to leave but again he stopped her. "Sansa, are you not forgetting something?"

"What…oh…yes." Her bag of instruments and medicines Maester William had given her was upstairs with her other bags. She quickly ran up and got the heavy canvas bag and slung it over her shoulder and left in a hurry before her father had any more reasons to stop her.

She did not really want to find the healing place, not yet at least. What she wanted to do was to find him.

It did not take long. A few questions here and there and soon she saw him, grooming a horse at the horse lines where dozens of horses were tied up and were being fed and cared for by grooms. He did not see her coming as he continued to brush down the flanks of his horse, his breath coming in clouds in the cold air.

"Is it Stranger?" she asked and Sandor turned, startled for a moment, and then continued his work.

"No," he said at last. "Stranger I lost at Casterly Rock when we had to run from the ironmen."

"I'm sorry."

He grunted. "So am I. He was a good horse. Loyal, did as I asked, never caused no trouble."

He handed the brush to a horse groom and then turned away without another word to her. His long strides took him away from the horse lines into a small copse along a path. She quickly followed, her long legs not the equal of his but she soon caught up. He stopped abruptly and turned to her and his face was twisted into a scowl.

"Get away from me, girl," he growled and turned from her again and started to walk.

She was too stunned at his rudeness to speak for a moment but then found her voice. "But…why?"

He stopped again but did not turn. "Your father and I had words last night."

That shook her. She had not known this. "Tell me what he said." He remained silent and did not move. "Tell me…please… Sandor."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? It is your name."

Now he did turn and the anger in his scarred face was terrifying to behold. "I am the Hound! I am your family's enemy. I killed people of your house. I killed that damn butcher's boy your sister loved so well. And when the Others are done and gone I may have to kill more of the people you care about."

"No…you won't."

He was breathing heavily, clouds of steam coming out in the frigid air. Then he nodded. "Aye…I won't."

"Because of me." It was a statement not a question.

"Aye," he said, and she barely heard it, he spoke so quietly.

"My father said you took Theon Greyjoy to win favor with him."

"No, for the ransom."

"Then why did you not ask for money? My father said…"

"To stay away from you. That's what he told me last night."

She gulped and felt tears come to her eyes and tried to fight them off but couldn't. "You must know that I…I…"

"Don't say it," he hissed, his eyes now wet as well and then she knew the truth of her father's words. "Don't ever say it. If you do…then I will kill every man that stands in our way, even your father and brothers. And then you will hate me. There is no life we can have in peace. No where we can be in peace. You will obey your father, you will marry some little lord and give him many babies and forget about me. Now go."

"I can't leave it like this," she said, fighting to control her emotions and tears.

"I'm no good for you, can't you see it?"

"No. I know why you do the things you do. I know you wanted to be a hero and save people. But Gregor took that away from you. The Lannisters took that away from you. The Hound? That is not who you are."

"I am now."

"You don't have to be." She wanted to reach out and touch him, hold him, but she feared what he would do, that he would reject her. Or maybe she feared that he wouldn't.

"It's too late," he said. "Too much blood I have spilled. The gods will not forgive me and neither will your family. We are done. Now go back to your family and leave me alone."

He started to walk away through the copse and Sansa felt herself stuck to the ground, stuck in time and place, and knew she had to make her feet move, her voice yell, to stop him. But then she heard Robb call her name, and time started again and then he was there.

"Sansa…don't wander away like that," Robb said. "We have many enemies here."

"I…I was looking for where they keep the wounded," she said, half in truth. "It is time I lent a hand."

"Aye…I know the place. I will take you."

It was a long canvas tent, its pegs stuck in the frozen ground. Two stovepipes came out the top, with smoke coming from them. Outside was a pile of frozen amputated arms and legs, feet and hands. In another place was a pile of dead, frozen bodies about to be burned by some men. Sansa gulped when she saw these sights and then plucked up her courage and told Robb she was fine and he left her.

"You should burn the hands and feet as well," she told the men doing the work.

They stopped and stared at her. "This is no place for a woman," one said, maybe their leader.

"I'm a healer," she told them in a strong tone.

"Then best get inside," said the leader. "There's work to do."

"You should burn the…"

"Be gone...healer."

"A man could lose his head talking like that to a lady of the realm," said a voice and Sansa looked up and saw the one person she did not want to see.

Ser Jaime Lannister climbed off his horse and stood before her as a groom ran up and took his horse away. Behind him were more men on horseback, now getting off, all looking cold and tired. "Lady Stark, is it not?" Ser Jaime asked.

"Lady…Stark?" gulped the leader of the men burning the bodies. He dipped his head. "My apologies."

"Burn the feet and hands, burn it all, fool, like she said," Ser Jaime said to him. "She should know. I am sure she burned enough bodies in Winterfell."

"We did," Sansa said, finding her voice at last.

"I take it your father is here now."

"He is…but you best stay away from him." Now she was angry, remembering what this man had done in her home to her brother.

He knew what she meant. "Oh? Does dear Ned still think I had something to do with your brother's accident?"

"Bran remembered."

He seemed about to answer with another quip but he faltered, and she saw uncertainty in his eyes. "Remembered? Remembered what?"

"You…pushing him."

"A lie….or a false memory perhaps, for I…"

"Liar!" she yelled at him. "You tried to kill him! My brother! You are nothing but a monster!" All around them people were staring, but they were all Lannister men, and they quickly looked away, for she had no friends here.

"What's all this?" asked a gruff voice and then Sansa and Ser Jaime turned to see a very tall, very old man approaching them. He had her mother's sigil on his surcoat, yet it had a black trout instead of the usual white one, and his fur lined cloak was held in place by a clasp shaped like a black trout as well. He stared at Sansa and his eyes went wide.

"Good gods, Sansa."

"Uncle Brynden," she said in relief. She had hardly met her mother's uncle in her lifetime except when she had finally been freed from the Lannisters many moons ago, but she recognized him and he knew her as well.

"Your father is here?" he now asked her.

"He is."

"He is well?"

"As well as can be, Uncle."

"Take me to him, at once."

Sansa hardly heard him for now she was staring at Ser Jaime. "You…stay away if you know what is good for you."

Her uncle turned his hard eyes on the Kingslayer. "What has he done, Sansa?"

"He tried to kill Bran. Bran remembers it all now."

"A falsehood…" the Kingslayer began but the Blackfish cut him off.

"Best stay away from Ned, Kingslayer. He stayed his hand at Riverrun when you were our captive because he wanted his daughters back. Now there is nothing to stop him from getting his justice."

Ser Jaime was angry now as well. "Tell dear old Ned that I will gladly continue our fight we began in King's Landing so many moons ago. This time he may die instead of getting off with just a broken leg."

With that Ser Jaime left, turning around and stalking off through the camp. And then Sansa got another shock, hardly recovered from this one. Among the men getting off their horses was her mother's brother, Lord Edmure Tully. And in tow behind him came two strong men with a prisoner trussed up between them. The prisoner had hardly any clothing on, just a thin shirt and breeches and worn shoes. He had long matted hair and a growth of scraggly beard, and his face was red and his hands were as well. He looked half frozen and was very thin. His eyes were dull and lifeless. But when he saw her the eyes came alive and she saw surprise and then fear in those eyes she had seen almost every day for most of her life.

"Theon," she gasped.

"Aye…Sansa," he replied in a weak voice.

"Sansa?" Lord Edmure said in surprise when he saw her. "Has your father arrived?"

"We were just going that way," the Blackfish said to his nephew.

"_No_," Theon blurted out, almost a plea, and he fell to his knees in the muddy snow. "I…mercy, I ask for mercy."

The Blackfish grabbed Theon by the front of his ragged shirt and roughly picked him up. "The time for mercy is past, Theon Turncoat," he snarled in his gravelly voice. "Ned Stark will have his justice. You should thank the gods it will be swift. You should also give the Hound your thanks before you die, for he saved you from that bitch Cersei and what she would have done to you. Ned will give you mercy, oh, yes. With Ice."

"No," Sansa said as they were about to drag him away. "The King…he wants Theon."

"What nonsense is this?" Lord Edmure asked. "The King wants him? Why?"

"He told my father that Theon is his ally, that he needs the ironmen. My father promised to turn him over to King Stannis. He…it's complicated. Arya…and her husband…"

"Husband?" the Blackfish said in surprise. "Arya is but a child, she…"

"Was married, uncles, in Winterfell, to Gendry."

"Robert's bastard?" the Blackfish said. "Much and more has gone on it seems. What happened to Arya?"

Sansa swiftly told the tale and all the while Theon stood there with glassy eyes, hanging limp between his guards, as if not believing he would be allowed to live.

"I will have the truth of this from Ned," the Blackfish said at last. "I cannot believe he would forego his vengeance on this traitorous bastard." A short while later they came to the small house with Sansa leading them. A small crowd had gathered by then, all Lannister men, and somehow they knew who the prisoner was. They were cursing and shouting at Theon, many of them calling for his head for his crimes against their lands and people. If not for the Tully men surrounding Theon he might have been dragged away and hung from the nearest tree. Soon Tyrion and Bronn came along as well.

"Ah, the kraken," Tyrion said. "Seems you are far from your ships and seas, King Theon."

"He's no king," spat the Blackfish.

"Not anymore," Tyrion agreed. "You owe me, Theon Greyjoy."

"Owe you?" Theon managed to gasp amid the noise.

"Yes, indeed. One castle. A large one at that, plus all its furnishings and fittings. Plus about twelve millions in coin, give or take a million. The exact figures I do not have at the moment."

Theon almost seemed to laugh. "You had best ask my uncles. They took all your famous Lannister gold, Imp."

"I will…when I cross the sea and crush your islands someday. Lannisters always pay their debts, Greyjoy. You should have remembered that when you decided to attack us. Maybe I will exact my revenge on you now."

Lord Edmure stepped close to Tyrion. "He's our prisoner, Lord Tyrion."

"Only because the Hound was rash. But I forgave him because I thought Lord Stark would soon take Greyjoy's head off, which is what I want as well. I now know Stannis wants him alive and Ned promised him such. This won't do."

"What is to be done is for Ned to decide," the Blackfish told Tyrion.

Then came a silence in the crowd and the people parted. Along came Sansa's father with Robb by his side. On Robb's back was Ice, its hilt sticking up above his shoulders and head. Theon would not look at them, the shame on his face clear to see. Robb was boiling with anger but her father seemed strangely calm.

"Lord Stark," said the Blackfish. "I bring the traitor, Theon Turncoat, for your justice."

"I thank you, Ser Brynden," Ned Stark said. And then he walked up to Theon, no longer using the walking stick Sansa now saw.

"Look at me, Theon," her father demanded in a cold voice.

Theon finally raised his eyes and they were wide with fear, and his whole body seemed to tremble and she knew it was not because of the cold.

"Why?" was all Ned Stark asked him.

"You know why," Theon said, speaking so quietly Sansa barely heard him. "I had to prove I had salt and iron in my blood."

"Aye…but why against my family?" her father asked. "Why betray the people who took you in and made you part of their family?"

Now Theon seemed more defiant. "I was never part of your family. I was always a hostage. My brother's died because…"

"Not directly by mine or any of mine's hands. Your father rebelled."

"Aye, he did. Now he is dead. Now I am King of the Iron Islands. I had to prove I was worthy of the Seastone Chair. I took Casterly Rock!"

Ned Stark shook his head. "What does it matter now? King? A king without a crown, far from his home. You should have stayed there, Theon. I wanted to give you the justice you deserve. So do many of these men around you. But King Stannis refused to let me do so. I will obey his orders…for now. But some day there will be a reckoning."

Now Tyrion came forth with Bronn behind him. "He must die, Lord Stark."

"I know he must but I made a promise to the King, for the sake of my daughter and her husband. I told you this last night. Why do you want blood now?"

"Because he is here and you seem about to turn him over to Stannis. I cannot let him go free, not after what he did to my people and home."

"I gave my word," Ned Stark told him. "And here I thought we were going to try to keep this alliance together. You will break it over one man?"

Tyrion grunted. "No…I suppose not. But you must promise me something."

"What?"

"Greyjoy and the Iron Islands are mine to deal with when this is all over."

Ned Stark hesitated and then nodded. "So be it."

Her father turned away then and Sansa thought it was the end but Robb had not had his say yet. He strode up to Theon, anger flashing in his eyes. "You were my friend," Robb said, his voice full of anger and emotion. "I trusted you. You rode by my side when we took the Kingslayer in the Whispering Woods. I trusted you to bring your father to our side and you betrayed me. You attacked our home, killed our people, our friends. You deserve to die." And then he took Ice out of its scabbard and had it by Theon's throat in one swift move. Theon's eyes bulged and Sansa thought for sure Robb would do it.

"Robb," her father quickly said. "No. I gave my word."

Robb fought with his emotions and then lowered the sword. Theon seemed to sigh in relief and then Robb spit in Theon's face. "That's for Winterfell." And then he punched Theon hard across the jaw and Theon crumpled and fell to the snow. As the men cheered around them she heard Robb shout, "And that's for Maester Luwin!" Sansa believed he would have continued but her uncles pulled him back and she heard Ser Brynden trying to calm him and finally Robb relaxed and put Ice away.

"What do we do with him, my lord?" one of the guards asked as they picked up Theon who was now bleeding from a cut lip.

"Take him to his King," the Blackfish said in a dismissive tone and soon Theon was dragged away.

As the crowds parted more than one man patted Robb on the back and said he did well and wished they could do more to the traitor. Sansa finally got close enough to whisper to him. "Ser Jaime is back as well."

Robb's anger began to rise again. "Where is the Kingslayer?"

"That would not be wise," Tyrion said from nearby. "I have just come from my brother and his blood is up. It seems Lady Sansa accused him of those same old horrible crimes."

"Which he denied," Sansa said.

"Of course, he did," Robb said. He snorted and turned away from them and went back to the little house, following his two uncles and father.

"Do keep him in hand," Tyrion told her. "Your brother may be a fine swordsman, but my brother is the best in the kingdoms."

"He is guilty and you know it, don't you?"

Tyrion sighed. "Guilty or not, your brother will still be dead. Now neither of us wants that, do we?"

"No," Sansa admitted.

"Good. Then I trust you to keep your father and brother far away and I will do the same with Jaime." He gave a short bow. "Good day, Lady Stark." Then he turned and Bronn followed like he always did.

Sansa went into the small house and found her uncles, father and brother at the table with cups of wine. "Sansa," her father said. "Your uncles have ridden far and are cold and hungry. Please see what food we have."

"Yes, Father," she said as she put down her medical bag and went into the small kitchen area. There was only a half a loaf of brown bread, some dried beef, and some hard cheese. "There is not much."

"We'll take whatever you have," her Uncle Edmure said and as they talked Sansa cut the bread and put the cheese and meat on a plate and brought it all to the table. There were no more chairs and no one seemed ready to offer her a seat and so she picked up her bag again and left them as they got deep into conversation.

Ignored like all the women usually were, Sansa felt the sting of an unsaid rebuke as she went outside. The life of a lady was one of service and silence, her mother had often told her, but it still hurt to be left out just because she was a woman. Her mother said you also had to be strong and forceful in certain areas. Raising your children, she had said, was your main duty, and making sure your lord husband's house was in good order as well. Do not always expect gratitude and do expect to be shut out of certain things. Always be courteous, and use it like armor, to shield you from the hurts of the world. Her mother had also told her to fight when you can win, but at times relent if the price is too high. Most of this Sansa had not understood but over the last year or so it all began to make sense. It had all served her well in King's Landing when she had been surrounded by people she wanted to see die more than anything. She had been terrified and thought she would die like all her father's household, but she had survived because she had known what to say and what to do. She had known her place and kept herself there.

So once more she pushed down her hurt feelings and remembered that she had a duty to do for her family, for her father and brother and uncles. Sansa found the Lannister tent where they were cooking food for the soldiers. She accosted the one who seemed to be in charge. "I need food for Lord Stark and Lord Tully and two more. A servant as well."

The man seemed about to growl at her but then he looked past her and quickly shouted at a servant to do as she said. Sansa turned and saw Bronn standing there with his sly grin on.

"See that Lord Stark and his party are well cared for," Bronn told the servant and the man quickly agreed, gathering up food on a tray and when he was ready Sansa told him where to take it.

"Thank you," Sansa said to Bronn.

The sellsword shrugged. "Must keep our allies happy."

"Even if we may be your enemy again someday?" she asked.

"Aye, even if."

"Your lord is not happy with my father."

"He'll get over it. Everyone wants Greyjoy. Did the Blackfish tell you what happened at Riverrun?"

"No. Why, what happened?"

"Cersei sent a letter demanding Greyjoy's head. And Shae's…and the Hound's."

Sansa gulped. "Because of what they did?"

"Aye. So Lord Edmure decided it best to get Greyjoy to your father for his own justice. Ser Jaime didn't care as long as Greyjoy died. Nor did Tyrion. But things have changed."

"Theon Greyjoy will die someday," Sansa said strongly.

"Aye, I suppose all men do." Then Bronn grinned and then let his gaze travel from her toes to her head. "I can see why he did it."

Sansa blushed. "Who did what?"

"You know who. And what. Just let him down easy, aye? He's better when he is not a drunken raving madman."

Before she could answer Bronn dipped his head, turned, and left her. Sansa knew exactly who and what he was talking about. And there was nothing she could do about it.

The next few days passed mostly uneventful, except for a small incident where some men had come into the Lannister camp and there had been trouble. Sansa did not know all the details, but apparently Cersei had sent the men to take Theon back to the Golden Tooth. She had heard Tyrion Lannister had harsh words with the men and then sent them across the river to join the fighting forces, so she guessed Theon would be staying with King Stannis. No one she knew had seen Theon since he had arrived so they knew not what the King had done with him or where he was now.

Sansa finally entered the healing tent and almost ran away from the horrible sights inside but she quickly got over it and presented herself to the Lannister maester who was in charge and soon found herself helping where she could. Two days later the Northmen arrived from Saltpans and her father and Robb and Ser Wendel took them in hand and began to set up a small camp for them between the Lannister forces and the King's men. She helped set up a small healing tent for the Northmen and spent her time between there and the Lannister healing tent. Her father was feeling much better and no longer used the walking stick. He still got headaches at times and could not do too much without getting tired, but all in all he seemed better. But still no word came from Dragonstone on what happened to Arya and Gendry, and all three of them worried on that more than anything else. Her father found time to write a letter for White Harbor, to give Lady Stark what news he could, and the letter was set to Riverrun where Lord Edmure said there was a raven for White Harbor.

More meetings were held, and Sansa was no longer part of them, being so busy, so she did not know much of what went on unless Robb or her father told her. Patrols went out and still there was no sign of the Others. The lords argued again on want to do and still the consensus was to stay on the Trident. More men came into the camps and experienced soldiers like Bronn and Sandor took them in hand to train them in the arts of war. She seldom saw Sandor and when she did he was far away and busy, so she let him be. The pain of their brief conversation in the copse was still too raw. She could not help the way she felt but there was nothing to be done about it. Her father still preferred not to talk about it, but somehow Robb found out. Four days after their men arrived from Saltpans he confronted her outside the healing tent where he had been waiting for her as the day was fading into darkness.

"Tell me it is not true," he said as they walked back to the small house.

"It is. So what of it?" she said, tired after a long day spent helping the Lannister maesters amputate frostbitten limbs off screaming men.

"Gods, Sansa, the man is a brute, he killed…"

"I know!" she almost screamed at him. "I know what he is and what he has done. Arya said the same, and so did Father, and so did Sandor. So…I don't need one more person telling me how much of a monster he is. I know, he knows, everyone knows!"

She was breathing heavily and in the near darkness of the fading daylight she could see his face filled with worry. "And still…gods, it must be love."

She felt a gasp rise out of her. "It is. And it will never be allowed so let's just forget it." She then walked away from him, her emotions running riot, and walked past the small house and kept going, not sure where her footsteps were taking her and suddenly she was by the house where Tyrion Lannister had his headquarters. Outside it there was a strange a scene as Sansa had yet seen.

Ser Loras was there, as was Lord Tarly, standing by the front door of the house, while Ser Jaime sat on the front step, his face in his hands, with Tyrion sitting beside him, a crumpled piece of parchment in his right hand, and his small left hand on his brother's arm, whispering to Jaime. Nearby the steps were Shae, Bronn, Podrick, and Sandor. The rest were all silent, except for Shae, who was weeping and wiping her eyes.

Sandor saw her then and he did not shout at her or walk away, he just shook his head in sadness.

"What has happened?" she asked, afraid to know the answer.

"The Tyrells got a message from Highgarden," he began, his voice almost cracking. "The King…he traveled there to get married to the Tyrell girl. But…King Tommen is now dead, taken by a fever."

Sansa could not help but feel a sudden sadness. Tommen was not her King, but still the same she had known him and liked him. He had never been cruel like his brother. She remembered a chubby little boy who liked to play with kittens and was always kind to her.

"I'm so sorry," she said and truly meant it.

Ser Jaime heard her and looked up and only nodded and in the fading light she saw sadness in his eyes. She still hated him but if all the stories were true he had just lost his son. Shae spoke then and said what perhaps they were all feeling. "The gods are too cruel to take such a fine boy."

Lord Tarly looked at Sansa. "You must tell your father. We must call a council. We will need his wisdom now."

Tyrion looked up at Lord Tarly, surprise clear in his eyes and voice. "A council? With what purpose, my lord?"

Tarly stared at him hard. "We must decide who will be our king."

"I seem to recall King Tommen had a sister," Tyrion said. "Queen Myrcella is quite able to sit the Iron Throne."

Ser Loras shook his head. "A child queen? Come, Lord Tyrion, even you must see that she cannot rule."

"Why not?" Ser Jaime countered before his brother could speak. "And remember, Ser Loras, that the only alternative is the man you want to see with his head removed from his neck."

"True enough," Ser Loras replied. "Stannis is not my first choice. But there must be some better alternative to a child queen."

Tarly grunted. "The kingdoms know the folly of a woman on the Iron Throne. You know your history, Lord Tyrion. You know the Dance of the Dragons ripped the kingdoms apart and the Targaryens never after allowed a woman to sit the Iron Throne."

Tyrion chuckled softly. "Oh, Lord Tarly, are we not already ripping the kingdoms apart? Joffrey was a cruel, vicious boy and yet no one said he could not be king. Myrcella is kind and gentle, and will be well guided and well controlled. You must see that we cannot give in to Stannis now. How many of our heads will he cut off if we bend the knee now?"

"I must speak to my lord," was all Tarly said and then he and Ser Loras parted.

"There will be trouble," Sandor said to her quietly. "Best get back to your own people."

Sansa didn't understand it, but she saw the wisdom of his words and left them and no one said a word to stop her. Soon she was back at the house she still shared with her father and brother, though they both spent many days and even some nights with the Stark men across the river, where Ser Wendel was permanently stationed now.

After she broke the astonishing news to her father and Robb they had long discussions on what was going to happen and why.

"The Tyrells may break with the Lannisters," her father concluded. "Lord Tarly knows his history. A split in the Targaryen family came when King Viserys the First's eldest child, his daughter Rhaenyra, challenged her younger brother for the throne. The civil war that followed nearly ruined the family, and saw the end of most of the dragons. Afterwards, the Targaryens placed much of the blame for allowing the daughter to believe she had the right to the throne. And so thereafter they never allowed any princess to have any such notions."

"If seems strange the Tyrells would want the realm to follow the Targaryen tradition," Robb said. "After all, they no longer rule."

"Aye, that may be so," their father told them. "But the Tyrells were always strong for the Targaryens, even till the end. Their claim to their seat and power was given to them by the first Aegon. Such loyalty runs deep and now, even if they hate Stannis, the Tyrells may decide to support his claim to keep with the old traditions."

"The Tyrells wanted Margaery to be queen, did they not?" Sansa asked.

"They did," Robb answered. "But with no more sons to offer, the Lannisters cannot keep that promise now."

"Lord Tyrell has two unmarried sons," their father added.

Robb raised his eyebrows. "I have heard Ser Loras is not the type to marry."

Her father's demeanor turned dark. "Do not discuss that in front of your sister."

Sansa looked from one to the other in confusion. "What do you mean? I think Myrcella would be glad to have such a handsome brave knight for her husband. I mean she is too young now, but still they could be wed. Age did not stop Arya and Gendry."

"Age has nothing to do with it," her father replied. "Let this be, Sansa, it is a…a delicate matter. Of the other son, Willas, he is the heir to Highgarden and would be a good match, though he is far older than Myrcella. I suppose we must wait to see what Lord Tyrell will do."

The news of King Tommen's death spread like wildfire through the encampments by the Trident and by mid-morning the next day King Stannis called for all commanders to meet with him. They came…except the Lannisters. This time Sansa came as well, and no one kept her from the meeting. And to her utter shock Theon Greyjoy was also present. He looked better, had his hair cut and had bathed and shaved and wore finer clothing, and even had a sword at his side. Still, he looked ill at ease and more than one person cast him evil looks, Robb most of all.

"He should not be here," her brother muttered.

"Leave it be," his father told him from his seat at the table, and then King Stannis entered and this time everyone stood from the table, except Lord Tyrell who was still suffering from a broken leg. The King waved them to sit down and then he looked at them all, his eyes hard and intense.

"So, this is how our pact will break," Stannis said ruefully when he understood the Lannisters were not there and would not come. "So be it. The pretender Tommen called Baratheon is dead, my lords, may the Lord of Light see him in peace for all eternity. I had no rancor towards the boy, though for those who supported his claim I cannot say as much." His eyes flicked for a moment towards the Tyrells and then as quickly looked away. "I even offered to allow him and his mother and sister to go into exile. He was but a puppet used by those who wished to usurp my true claim. Now he is gone it seems the Lannisters will push for his sister to sit the Iron Throne. The realm cannot allow this, my lords. A child ruler is bad enough, as we saw with Joffrey, but a girl child, a girl queen, is worse. Even the Targaryens knew the folly of this after they suffered for it almost two hundred years ago. I will dispute the girl Myrcella's claim till my last breath. If any of you think she has a right to the throne then I think wiser heads should prevail as they did in the past and you should put aside her claim. Another time in the past a girl child was in line for the succession and she was bypassed in favor of an older relative, King Aegon the Fifth of His Name, so there is a precedent for this. The time for our bitter split is over, my lords. The time to claim one king for one kingdom is at hand. I will withdraw and await your judgment."

Lord Stark spoke quickly. "There is no need to withdraw, my King. No man here has reason to hide his intentions." Stannis stayed in his seat and nodded to her father to continue. "I say we take a vote, each lord paramount speaking for his lands and people. The North stands behind King Stannis Baratheon."

"As does the Vale," Lord Baelish said from across the table, and Sansa noticed Lord Royce flush in anger as Baelish once more spoke for Lord Royce's lands and people.

Theon Greyjoy was next from the head of the table, sitting nearby Baelish and now all eyes turned to him. "The Iron Islands as well," he said, almost in a stammer and he hardly looked up from the table.

Lord Edmure Tully was next. "The Riverlands remain loyal to King Stannis."

Now all eyes were on Lord Mace Tyrell and he looked down the table at Stannis. "Before I speak for my lands and people I would have words with the King."

"Say what you will, Lord Tyrell," Stannis replied.

"Before I bend the knee I will have a public apology from you for holding my children captive."

Stannis' jaw clenched and his eyes grew more intense and Sansa thought he would say no but finally the King nodded curtly. "You have my apology, as does Ser Loras and Lady Margaery. And I will have your word that your sons will seek no redress for this grievance."

"You have my word…Your Grace."

"So be it," Stannis said. He was about to stand when Sansa's father spoke once more.

"There is another matter, Your Grace."

"I am listening," Stannis replied, a bit impatiently it seemed.

"On the matter of the gods, Your Grace," Lord Stark began. "I think all the lords present will feel more comfortable if you renounce any intention to spread your newfound beliefs by any forceful means, whether by the sword or the making of laws. The Seven Kingdoms will have freedom of worship, and the people will worship who they please as they have always done."

"You speak as though I am but a puppet you can make dance and parrot your own words, Lord Stark," Stannis replied testily.

The mood in the pavilion suddenly darkened. "These are our wishes, as well," Lord Edmure said. "I have made this known to you in the past, Your Grace."

Stannis grunted. "Do all the lords agree with Lords Stark and Tully?"

"The Reach certainly does," said Lord Tyrell.

"The Vale as well," Lord Royce said before Baelish could speak first this time.

Again all eyes turned to Theon. "My people will never give up the Drowned God," he muttered. Then he looked up and spoke in a clearer voice. "Neither will I."

Stannis seemed to be grinding his teeth as he sat there, not saying a word, and the silence lingered and Sansa feared he would refuse them. "So be it, my lords," he said at last. "I will give you your freedom to worship but I expect absolute obedience in all other matters. Are we clear?"

They all gave their affirmation and then Stannis got to one more matter. "Who will bring this news to Lord Lannister?"

"I will," her father said and with that the meeting broke up. Lord Edmure and Ser Brynden followed them back to the Lannister camp. They found Tyrion Lannister waiting for them outside their small house. Bronn, Sandor, and Podrick were with him. "What has happened, my lords?" Tyrion asked right away.

"We all agreed that Stannis will be King," Ned Stark told him.

"Even Lord Tyrell?" Tyrion asked, and something in his tone told Sansa that he hoped it was not so.

"Aye."

"Bloody hell," Bronn cursed.

Tyrion seemed to deflate, getting smaller if that were possible. "Indeed, bloody hell." He looked back to Ned Stark. "And Myrcella? What is to become of her?"

"We did not discuss it," Sansa's father told him. "Though I am sure Stannis will keep his word to allow her to go into exile."

Now Tyrion laughed. "Oh, you know my sister not, my lord. She will fight tooth and nail to keep Myrcella's claim alive."

"And you?" Lord Edmure asked. "What will you do now, my lord?"

"Why, we will fight, of course," Tyrion said and for a moment Sansa and the rest thought he meant he would fight them. "Not you. The Others, I mean," Tyrion swiftly added.

"And after?" her father asked.

"That is to be seen."

"What about your brother?" Robb asked. "Will he stay and fight as well?"

"I am afraid not," Tyrion told them. "Jaime set off at the dawn for Highgarden. I met with Lord Tyrell in the night and his intentions became clear to me, though I had hoped I had persuaded him otherwise. Yet Jaime held no such hope and I of course could not keep him from doing as he pleased. So he and some men left this morning. I am sure that pleases you Lord Stark, seeing as you had no love for my brother."

"None at all," came the answer. "He still has to answer for his crimes against my son."

Tyrion sighed. "That shall have to wait. Good day, my lords, my lady. I think I shall get drunk and mourn my King for the rest of this day. He was a good lad, and deserved a better fate." Then he waddled away with his three companions following. Sansa tried to catch Sandor's eye but again he tried to avoid her looks and she knew nothing had changed between them.

When they were gone, Sansa and her family went into their small house and had a midday meal. The talk was mainly on what this news meant for the realm. Then her Uncle Brynden was adamant that they should send riders after Ser Jaime but her father refused saying that for now Tyrion Lannister was still in the fight and to harm his brother would endanger that. Then the talk shifted to Theon and how it had galled them to see him sit there and speak as an equal.

"That is Stannis' doing," Lord Edmure said. "But how much power will Theon Greyjoy really have in the Iron Islands now? His humiliation will be long remembered."

"Hard to say," the Blackfish said next. "He did capture Casterly Rock."

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and when Robb answered Ser Loras came in. "My father requests an audience, Lord Stark. With you…and your daughter."

"Me?" Sansa said in surprise.

"Yes, my lady."

Thirty minutes later they were sitting in Lord Tyrell's large pavilion in the Tyrell encampment, at a nice table, with Ser Loras sitting nearby as well. Sansa still wondered why her father and brother seem to think he was not the marrying kind but put that thought out of her head as Lord Tyrell began to speak, not so snobbish now as he seemed when Sansa first saw him days ago.

"Forgive me for not coming to you, my lord," Mace Tyrell said. "My leg still bothers me much."

"I know of that pain, I am sad to say," her father replied.

"Ah, yes. Courtesy of the Kingslayer, was it not?"

"Aye."

"Well…enough talk of past and present infirmaries. I suppose you are wondering why I asked you to come. Though this may seem like an inappropriate place for such talks, as we all know life and time do not wait for all men. Or women. So…I have a proposition for you…both."

Sansa and her father looked at each other, each equally puzzled and then looked back to Lord Tyrell. "I am listening," her father said.

"You know I have an elder son, Willas. He is my heir, and…well, he has not yet found a bride. This worries my wife so and me as well. The line of succession, you understand."

"Aye…but…oh…I see," her father said and then he turned to her and suddenly she understood.

They were trying to make a match for her.

As if in a fog, Sansa heard Loras speak at length about his brother and all his good qualities. They also mentioned something about a lame leg and the accident that had caused it but they assured her that he was strong and healthy otherwise.

"So you see, Lady Sansa," Mace Tyrell was saying. "It would please me greatly if you went to Highgarden to see my son and…well, perhaps consider such a match. With your father's blessing of course, of course."

"Father," Ser Loras spoke up again. "You forget. Willas is not at Highgarden now."

"Oh? Oh, yes. How silly of me. Willas is leading our forces against the pretender. I totally forgot. But soon you can meet him and…so…there it is."

They were all looking at her. "Sansa?" her father said. "Lord Tyrell needs an answer."

"I…I…," but she could not speak.

"Ah, I understand," said Mace Tyrell with a sigh. "There is another, someone who has captured your heart."

It was true but he had rejected her and she knew it could never be. "No, my lord, there is no one," she said quietly.

Her father was staring at her and then he nodded slightly. "Very well," he said and he turned back to Mace Tyrell. "We accept your proposal, my lord. In due time we shall arrange a meeting of our children and then we will see want comes of it."

"Wonderful!" the fat lord of the Reach exclaimed. "I am sure they will get on famously. Perhaps Sansa can set out for Highgarden soon and…"

"My place is here for now, my lord," Sansa interjected. "With my father and the wounded."

"Yes, yes…but…dangerous, so very dangerous," he replied, seemingly worried something might happen to her before she could produce an heir for his lands. "But…we shall see. Good."

With that the meeting broke up and soon Sansa and her father were on their way back to the ford where Ser Loras said goodbye to them and returned to his father's camp.

"Sansa, I will not force you to do this," her father said when they were alone, standing on the Kingsroad near the ice covered ford, with some nearby soldiers out of earshot.

"What does it matter?" she said sadly. "No other wants me."

"Did…did he tell you that?"

"No, you did. You told both of us. I know you spoke to him that night. I know what you said."

"I had to. You must understand. You would have no life with such a man."

"So you say. So he said as well. You were right, Father. I do love him."

He was not shocked for he had already suspected this. "Sansa…how did it happen?"

"I know not. It just did. I tried to tell him how I feel but he would not let me. He said he would kill all of you if you stood in our way so it was best not to speak on it. Ever."

"Then he has shown wisdom at least," her father replied. "I am sorry, but it cannot be."

"Then I will marry Willas…if he will have me."

"I am sure he will not refuse you."

"As you say, Father."

"Come, let us…"

Suddenly a rider came down the Kingsroad. On his surcoat was the lion sigil of the Lannisters. His horse was blown and foaming at the mouth. The guards watching the ford ordered him to halt and he did so and then fell off his horse. As the guards helped him up, Sansa and her father went to him.

"Where are you coming from?" her father asked.

"Patrol, sent out two days ago," the man said. "Ten of us…I am all that is left."

"What news?" her father quickly asked. "Where are your companions?

"All dead," the man said and then he took in more air and then spoke again, the fear in his voice clear. "They are coming!"

There was no need to say who was coming. "How close are they?" Lord Stark asked. "When will they get here?"

The man took in another breath and then spoke clearly. "They will be here by nightfall."


	6. Chapter 6 Third Battle of the Trident 1

**Ned Stark ****Lives! Part 3 Chapter 6 The ****Third ****Battle**** of the Trident Part ****1**

_This chapter will be from many points of view for reasons which will become obvious as you read. The First B__a__ttle of the Trident was when __Robert__ and Rhaegar fought. The Second Battle was when the __co__alition held the __Others__ back. __This is the Third Battle. And it is Part 1 because the tale was too big for just one chapter, so Part 2 will come soon as I have time to write it. And not to worry, we will get to Jon and Dany, Arya and Gendry, Oberyn and Aegon, Asha and Cersei and Jaime, and many others all in due time. _

**Tyrion**

He wanted to get drunk but there was no time, and may never be again. He wanted to mourn, for his dead King, his dead nephew, and his dead cause. Tyrion had feared this, in the back of his mind, knowing that if Tommen died his sister would be hard to sell as a queen. Sadly, as he expected, the lords of the Seven Kingdoms would not stand behind her. Not even the Tyrells who had more than one reason to hate Stannis Baratheon. The rest of them he knew would never agree to Myrcella being queen. Not only because Stannis had, as Tyrion had known all along, the better claim, but because she was a woman, and worse still, a girl. Stannis was a man, tall and strong, and was a proven leader in battle, which is what the kingdoms needed now. Even Tyrion had to concede that much.

The letter had arrived like a shock, so unexpected and so tragic at the same time. Tyrion and Jaime had just sat down to an evening meal with Bronn and the Hound and Shae when the knock came to the door. Pod had answered and came back to tell him Lord Tarly wanted to see him outside alone, and Ser Loras was with him. Tyrion puzzled over this and rose, went to the door, and stepped outside.

They looked like someone had died, and in fact someone had. Tyrion did not yet known this and tried to be jovial. "Come, my lords, why the long faces? Come inside and have a cup of wine. I find that always helps whatever troubles me."

"Not this time," Lord Tarly said in a heavy voice. "We have had word from Highgarden, a message to Lord Tyrell from his wife. There is…there is dire news, my lord."

"Well, I always say best to get it out and over with. No sense in prolonging the suspense."

"So be it," Lord Tarly replied. "King Tommen is dead."

Nothing could have prepared him for this. Tyrion swayed slightly and then gulped once, twice, and finally found his voice. "How?"

"A fever," Ser Loras told him. "Queen Cersei, Princess Myrcella, and King Tommen were coming to Highgarden so the King could wed my sister. Alas, on the Ocean Road they contracted an illness, all three, plus many in their party."

"Cersei? Myrcella? Are they…"

"No," Lord Tarly swiftly said. "They are recovering. But…my lord's wife writes that Cersei is so distraught she has hardly left her bed except to see her daughter. Myrcella is taking it better, though she is still very weak, and seems lost. The maesters have prepared the King's body for the final rites, though where that will be has not been decided yet."

"The letter," Tyrion said quietly. "Do you have it?"

Lord Tarly handed the parchment to him and Tyrion swiftly read it by the last of the dying sunlight. It was all they had said, and words never so unlooked for he did not know.

"I must…I must tell Jaime," he said at last but found his short, twisted legs would not turn, would not go back in the house. And then Jaime was there, with the rest of them, all worried on what had happened to him.

"What's all this?" Jaime asked and Tyrion tried to tell him.

"The King…our King…Tommen…" he began, but he could not say it.

"Yes?" Jaime asked. "What of him?"

"He is…dead," Tyrion said at last and Shae gasped, the Hound swore, as did Bronn, and Pod just stood there staring numbly at him.

Jaime turned pale and looked at Tyrion in shock as he explained what had happened to them. Then Jaime saw the letter in his hand and grabbed it and read it swiftly. He gasped once and fought off the tears Tyrion knew were trying to force their way out of his eyes. Then with a _thump _he sat on the step of the house and handed Tyrion back the letter. Tyrion sat beside him and whispered consoling words.

"I'm so sorry," he said quietly and Jaime sighed deeply and fought to maintain his composure, trying to maintain the fiction that this was not his son, but another man's. He had never shed a tear for Joffrey but he had been closer to Tommen and Tyrion knew this was not something he would easily get over, if ever.

Then Sansa Stark arrived from seemingly nowhere and Lord Tarly said what Tyrion had feared.

"We must decide who will be our king."

Decide they did, the next morning, and all was lost. Tyrion had tried to plea with Lord Tyrell in the night and Lord Tyrell seemed to be undecided still when Tyrion had left him. Tyrion reminded him who had freed his children from Stannis and Lord Tyrell was grateful and said he needed time to sleep on matters.

"The fat flower will desert us!" Jaime had shouted when Tyrion had returned to their quarters. "Tarly and Loras will sway him. Cersei and Myrcella are in Highgarden, surrounded by our soon to be enemies. I must go to them." And Tyrion would not, could not stop him. He left before the dawn with twenty picked men, all Tyrion could spare. Tyrion, Bronn, and Clegane saw him off on the Kingsroad.

As they parted Jaime paused before he mounted his horse, and all his worries were clear on his face. "I know not what to do or where to go when I find them, brother," he said.

"Take them to Casterly Rock," Tyrion told him.

"Is even our home safe anymore?"

"The Redwyne fleet is there, and Genna is gathering more men to our side. If you do not feel safe there, there are many castles in our lands that will shelter you."

Jaime agreed. "And tell that fat flower if he sends any word to his people to seize Cersei and Myrcella or harm them in any way I will kill every last Tyrell."

"I'll make sure he gets the message."

Jaime hesitated once more. "Little brother, this may be goodbye for a long time. I know you want to stay and help these fools, and I will not try to sway you otherwise. But if the fight goes badly, there is only one place to retreat to. Back west, to the Tooth and then the Rock if you must. I will make sure there are ships enough to take us away if the Others get so far."

And then he was gone, and Tyrion missed him already.

"We should leave now," Bronn said right away as Jamie and his men rode down the Kingsroad. "Be better than waiting for the fight to go bad."

Clegane spat. "Fuck that. I'm staying to fight."

"Why the fuck for?" Bronn asked. "I hear Lord Eddard told you to stay away from his daughter."

"Shut your hole before I shut it for you!" the Hound snarled at him and for a brief moment Tyrion thought they would come to blows.

"Come, come, my friends, we have no reason to be enemies, do we? Bronn, best not talk on such things. And Clegane, I am not running, so be calm. Our best hope still lies here, with allies at our sides. If we break this coalition then the Others will run rampant. Time we must give Jon Snow to do what Lord Stark thinks he can do. So we will stay and fight as long as we can."

He still held a faint hope the Tyrells would stick by his side, but it was not to be. Lord Stark delivered the news Tyrion had expected and then he decided he wanted to get drunk. He sat at the table with Bronn and Shae while the Hound sat on the sofa and Pod stooped by the fire adding more wood. Shae uncorked the wine and poured cups for her and Bronn and himself. She was still a bit weepy and when they had lay in bed that night before after they had learned Tommen was dead she had cried herself to sleep.

"He saved me," she said to him as they lay in each other's arms. Tyrion knew Tommen would have been a good king if the gods had only allowed him to live.

And now he just wanted to get drunk. "Come, Clegane," Tyrion said to the Hound "The gods will forgive you if you have one drink to honor our dead King."

"I am done with drink, I told you," the Hound growled at him. "Years I have wasted in the bottom of a cup." Tyrion knew he could say the same but he needed a drink now and gulped his wine and felt good as it went down to his belly.

"I'll drink his share," Bronn said. Then he looked over at Pod and held up a cup to him. "Come on lad, you best learn how to drink. If we all end up in exile across the Narrow Sea there will be days with sweet bugger all else to do."

Pod took the cup and sat with them, drank a sip and then gulped it so fast it dribbled down his chin. Bronn laughed and Tyrion forced a bit of a chuckle, but Shae got mad and snatched the cup from Pod's hand, sloshing the remains out on the wooden table.

"Bad enough with two drunks," she said with an angry look to Tyrion. "I don't need another to care for."

"Sorry, Pod," Tyrion said, feeling abashed. "My lady commands you to remain sober."

Then came the knock on the door. It was one of the men guarding the ford. "Lord Stark has called for all commanders to come to the ford on the north bank."

"Why?" the Hound demanded.

The man gulped. "The Others are coming again."

They found Stark and his son and daughter there, with Stannis and Lord Royce and some of Stannis' men just arriving. Ser Loras and Lord Tarly came as well, with the Blackfish and Lord Edmure arriving last. Stark told them of the rider who had claimed the Others were coming soon.

"By nightfall he said," Stark told them. The man had been taken off to be cared for, exhaustion almost killing him and his horse.

"We are ready," Stannis said to them all. "There is nothing more to do then feed the men and prepare our oil and fire arrows." He looked at Tyrion. "Do you concur…lord commander?"

"Yes…though I wonder why you still address me as such," Tyrion said. "All have bent the knee except me and mine."

"There is still time to do so," Stannis told him and Tyrion almost laughed but knew Stannis would take ill of that. And then Tyrion knew what he had to do, had seemed to have known it since the day before, though he was reluctant to admit it and would say nothing…yet.

"When the battle is over we shall talk," was all he said and after a brief moment Stannis nodded, remounted his horse and rode away with Lord Royce and his other men. After some brief discussion as to signals and message riders between the different parts of the army, Lord Tarly and Loras left them as well.

"What will you talk on?" Ned Stark asked him when Stannis was gone.

"Why, terms, of course," Tyrion replied. "I am no fool, Lord Stark, as you well know from our many conversations. If all the realm sides with Stannis, we would be crushed before long. But I will get my due before I bend the knee or our war will continue when this one is done."

"Stannis hates you all," the Blackfish said. "Your brother and sister will never yield, even if Stannis allows their daughter to go into exile."

Their daughter. The words hung in the air, all eyes on Tyrion, though he would not admit that yet either. "I am lord of Casterly Rock," Tyrion reminded them. "I speak for the Westerlands and its people. Jaime will see the wisdom of this eventually. Though he may not even stay in Westeros if Myrcella is exiled." That was close to an admission but was still not one.

"And Cersei?" Robb Stark asked.

"She can go fuck herself," Tyrion said with a growl and Sansa Stark gasped. "Forgive my harsh words, my lady. If you had a sister who treated you all your life as she has treated me you would say the same. I am tired of her and all she has done to me…and the realm."

"Is now the time for those truths you have been hiding behind your lies?" Ned asked him.

Tyrion grinned wanly. "Oh, I think not. Though I suppose there is nothing to hide now, is there?" That was close as well to an admission, though still not one. But they were no fools, Stark, and the two Tullys. They knew what he meant.

"No, not really," Ned replied grimly. "When the battle is done we shall have a long talk. And you know Stannis will never let you bend the knee until you admit all you know."

"Yes, I suppose he won't." And he will want Tyrion to publicly state that Myrcella was a bastard born of incest. No, he would ever do that. He would admit as much to Stannis if he demanded it to have peace, but the rest of the realm would never hear such words from his lips. Stark will want to know if Jaime had pushed his son and why and Tyrion would tell him that much, especially if Jaime fled overseas with his family. He might someday rue all of it and Jaime may come for his head, but Tyrion thought maybe not. He suspected Jaime was tired of the lies as well, that he wanted to proclaim his love for their sister and claim his children…child… as his own.

Tyrion was tired of all the lies also. Tired of all the years covering up for them. For Jaime he would have lied till his last days. But with Jaime gone and maybe soon gone forever, there really wasn't anymore point. Cersei, though, would never accept exile. She would drag them through the mud and blood of more war just to put Myrcella on that ugly chair, a chair everyone in the realm would try to knock her off of. His people would bleed and they would all be crushed in the end and that sweet girl would die on a chopping block or with a noose around her neck. But Cersei would never see that outcome and push and pull them all to their doom. If only the gods had taken her when the fever struck. But the gods had never done what he had wanted. They had made him a twisted demon monkey and still they mocked him with their cruelty.

They parted then with words of good luck said last and Tyrion turned with Bronn and Pod at his side as they mounted up their horses. But Clegane lingered behind. The girl had called his name and then said something to her father and Stark seemed to get mad but then he nodded and walked away with his son, both turning to the right where their men were camped.

"Pod, you stay out of the fight," Tyrion told him. "You stay with Shae and if things go bad you run, run west and keep running till you reach the Tooth. Understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good lad. Off you go." Pod rode his horse across the icy ford with the Blackfish and Lord Tully nearby him. Tyrion wondered if he would see Pod or Shae ever again. If he went back to the house to say goodbye he might leave with her.

"We should be running too," Bronn said, as if reading his mind. Bronn waved his arm towards their men on the north bank who were making cooking fires and preparing what could be the last meal for many of them. "These lads, how many are left? Less than ten thousand?"

"Maybe." The numbers he knew not with great accuracy. More and more they lost each day to the cold, to illness and frostbite and exposure. Morale was low, being here for weeks in the cold, living out of tents and crude wooden huts, with little chance to clean themselves or their clothing. And now they all knew Tommen was dead and every other lord had pledged themselves to Stannis. Their cause was dead with Tommen. If…when…Tyrion finally bent the knee, who was to say if one of his own people would not want his head on a spike for betraying them?

"Run we should, I agree," he said to Bronn. "West, but if we run all the way to the Rock there is only the sea left."

"Better than a cold hole in the ground or to turn into a blue eyed demon."

"True enough."

As they stood looking at Clegane and the girl talking about something, speaking so quietly though they could not catch the words, Tyrion wondered why he loved her and she him. They were so different, so…far apart, worlds apart. Like he and Shae were. Sansa then stepped up to Clegane and touched his face, but Bronn spoke and distracted Tyrion from what happened next.

"Will you really bend the knee?" Bronn asked.

"Yes."

"Good," Bronn said.

"Good?"

"Fucking right good. I am tired of all this war. I got a nice wife, a piece of land, a nice home. I want to grow old to enjoy it."

"So do I." Then he sighed. "I must do it for my people. But Jaime will hate me for it. There is no place in Westeros for him and Myrcella. Even if Stannis allows them to flee, they will always be looking over their shoulders for the assassins. I must get Stannis to let them stay here. I must get him to agree to leave them in peace if Myrcella renounces her claim."

"Jaime might be persuaded if you say the rights words. But the bitch will never agree to it."

"Cersei won't have any say," Tyrion said, deciding something at last that he should have decided years ago.

"You think she'll just sit by and do nothing?"

"No, she won't. That's why she must die."

* * *

**Sandor**

The words struck him like a blow and he fought to control his raging emotions.

"They are trying to make a match between me and Willas Tyrell, Lord Tyrell's son and heir," Sansa told him as her father and brother walked away.

He gulped once, twice and then found his voice. "Good. All the best to you and him."

She paled and her eyes watered up. "You can't mean it. I know you lo…"

"Don't!"

"Love me!" she said and then he felt his heart skip a beat. Then she took two steps towards him. "And I love you…you must know it is true!"

"I told you to never say that!" he said in a fierce whisper. "Now you have cursed us. Can't you see that?"

"No…I had to tell you. This…this might be the end."

"Aye…it might." he said wearily. They were silent then, looking at each other in the pale afternoon light, the sun weak in the overcast sky. "Why me?" he asked at last, barely getting the words out. "I am no good, I am…"

"Stop it. Why do you hate yourself so?"

"I am a hateful man."

"Other men made you that way. It is not you. I can see the good in you under all the rest."

"I told you it is too late for us. Willas Tyrell is a good man, a respected man, with lands and titles and wealth. He will make a good husband for you."

"I don't love him."

"You haven't met him yet."

"Why are you pushing me away? I told you I…"

"Don't say it again…please. I…I couldn't stand it."

"Do you love me?" she asked and he felt his heart wrench.

"Aye," he managed to gasp and could not look at her. Then he felt her gloved hand on his chin and she lifted his face. She was tall, not as tall as he, but tall for one so young, and her blue eyes looked into his and he was lost. "Tell me why," she asked quietly as she took her hand away.

"It…it just is," he said and it was a lie but he could not tell her the truth, here, like this, with so many eyes around them. All his life had been one long agony of brutality and pain. She was the first decent lovely thing he had ever had as part of his life, even if she could not stand to look at him at first. He wanted to say the words many times to her but they got stuck in his throat. He saw her shiver with the cold now and he wanted to do nothing more than hold her, kiss her, and take her as a man should take a woman. He knew she was hardly a woman but he could not help himself. Since the first time he saw her at Winterfell he had been consumed by thoughts of her. He thought it only lust, but soon knew it was more when she arrived in King's Landing. How he longed to punch Joffrey in the face for the cruel ways he treated her. Joffrey was dead and he was glad of it. But Tommen…he never harmed anyone. Why had the gods taken him? And now it was all falling to pieces.

"You should go with your father," he said at last to her, looking away from those eyes.

"Where will you be?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Here, by the ford. I will lead the men guarding it. You will be in the Stark healing tent, aye?"

"Aye."

"If things go bad…run here," he told her, forcing himself to look at her again. "Don't wait for your father or brother to tell you to run. They will be busy fighting. Get a horse if you can. I know you can ride well."

"I can't abandon my family."

"To save your life you can. Do this for me if not for yourself. If you die…I…" But he could not speak.

Her eyes welled up and she nodded. "I will find you."

"Go."

She left and then he turned and walked back to where the Imp and Bronn were sitting on their horses. "Say a fucking word and I will leave you two to hold this rabble together all by yourselves."

"Not to worry, old boy," Tyrion said to him. "We both know what love is."

"No, don't think so," Bronn said.

"Come now, you must have been in love at least once in your life," Tyrion said to the sellsword in a surprised tone.

"Never. I am fond of the wife but can't say I love her."

"Then the gods have cursed you, my friend."

"Maybe it's you two they cursed. Don't see me running halfway round the kingdoms chasing a woman, now do you?"

Sandor mounted his horse beside them. "We are all cursed if those demons get through us."

"The defenses are good," Tyrion said. Across the Kingsroad they had placed many barriers of wood and a deep ditch. All along the lines the same defenses were in place. They still had some oil and fire arrows and plenty of dragonglass weapons.

"Flanks are in the air," Bronn reminded them. "The Tyrells are near to where the three forks meet but it's all frozen. And Stannis' right is up in the air with just the Vale horsemen there."

"Four thousand Vale knights," Sandor reminded him. He had been barely listening to them as he watched Sansa walk away towards where her father's men were placed.

"Aye, and they should be here," Bronn advised. "No good out there guarding Stannis' camp, stuck among the trees and what not."

"Our cavalry men are on the left with Tyrells you recall," Tyrion said. "They have good open ground there."

"Aye, and they lost a lot in the last attack. What's left will not do a lot of good if the Others flank us far to the west. I think we should pull them back," Bronn said.

"What the hell are you saying all this now for?" Sandor asked. They had been here for almost a moon's turn now.

"Cause if they attacked the Twins six days past they might already have taken the west tower and the west bank and are coming down the Green Fork west bank towards our open flank. It's all frozen and they can get over now, time like they did before. And if you trust fat head Tyrell to have fixed that problem then we are in deep shit."

"The rider said they were coming down the Kingsroad," Tyrion reminded them.

"He did, but not how many, now did he?"

"Fuck, he's right," Sandor told the Imp. "We need to pull back our cavalry across the Trident and hold them near the place where the three rivers meet, up near Lord Harroway's Town."

"This could have been useful a few days ago…damn," Tyrion cursed. "Fine, Bronn, go! Clegane and I will hold the center."

Bronn kicked his heels into his horse and started riding to the left. "If it all goes to shit I will see you at the Tooth," he shouted and then he was gone.

Sandor and Tyrion were silent for a few moments. Then the Imp spoke. "Did you at least tell her how you feel?"

"Aye."

"Good."

"And you your woman?"

"Yes. Many times. But I still can't marry her."

"Then we are both truly fucked."

"That we are."

"My lord, if I die, burn me quickly. Cause if I come back as a demon the first person I will kill will be Ned Stark."

"Not to worry. And do the same for me, if you please."

"I will."

Again they were silent as they watched the continuous activity as the men prepared food. "This might be the last battle here," Tyrion said at last.

"If it is I am not coming with you to the west."

"No, I expected you would not. Stark won't want you around her."

"I'm not leaving her alone if they break through."

"Then tell Stark and Stannis to head for Harrenhal. The Tyrells have stuffed it with many supplies, which they have been reluctant to share with the rest of us. Its walls may be blackened and broken but they are still strong. It can hold out for a long time."

"Just more waiting for death."

"Not if Jon Snow kills the demons up north."

Sandor spat. "Fuck that. Our hopes can't rest on that alone."

"Well, we can always hope Stannis' red whore cuts the blacksmith's throat and raises a stone dragon."

"Thought you said it would eat her first?"

"True. And if it does eat her maybe it will get a taste for women flesh. Then I can introduce Cersei to the dragon. Oh, wouldn't that be a lovely sight, Cersei ablaze in a bath of dragonfire just before it chomps on her charred flesh and bones. I surely hope the gods are not so cruel as to let me die before I hear my sister screaming to death."

* * *

**Lord Tarly**

The flank was still not as protected as he wanted it to be, Lord Tarly could see as he inspected the defenses. The Tyrell camp extended west along the Trident and bent north a bit where it came close to where the Green and Blue Fork's rushed down to the main branch of the great river of Westeros. Lord Harroway's Town was just to the south of them and to the west was forest and field…all empty of men. He placed some cavalry back there, and had men building barriers, but if the demons got across the many forks and streams of the Trident they would turn their flank again. Twice they had done it, once in small numbers during the first attack and once to attack Riverrun. And still Lord Tyrell could not believe they were so disciplined as to have plans and make strategy. All his adult life Lord Tarly had been making war and he knew when he was opposed by a superior general. Whoever…whatever… was leading the Others was no fool.

"Is this necessary?" Ser Loras said from his side. "I mean, all that wood, on the ice…what good will it do?"

"We can burn it when they come across, give us time," he replied. Men were out there on the frozen river, stacking piles of wood, wood they had cut for warmth and for cooking fires, wood that might just save them now. Other men were putting oil barrels behind the wood piles ready to be poured on the wood if, when, the Others and their wights came.

"But the fire will melt the ice," Loras said.

"Good. Then they will fall in. No one has seen a wight or Other swimming yet."

"It will just get in the way of our cavalry charge," Loras told him.

Tarly grunted. "You try to charge across that ice, ser, and your horse will throw you and you will break your neck."

Loras made a scoffing sound. "I think I am a better judge than you of what my horse will or won't do on ice, my lord."

"As you say, ser. Pay no mind to me."

Loras looked puzzled as if trying to figure out if he had been insulted or not. He was always doing that, thinking people wanted to mock him, to insult him, and he was always ready to challenge them. It came from his fears. Not the kind of fears most people have. Loras was one of the bravest men in the kingdoms. But he had other fears, fears that people knew what he was, fears that they would confront him, and then he would truly have to kill men for calling him what many already knew he was.

His father still acted as if he didn't know and Tarly was unsure if he did or not. Once Tarly tried to brooch the subject but Willas Tyrell was there as well and he quickly cut Tarly off. Later Willas confronted him. "What my brother is or is not is of no concern of yours, my lord."

"People are talking about him and Renly. They say it is not healthy for them to spend so much time together."

"Leave it be. It cannot be helped," Willas had replied. "What could we do anyway? He will not change."

Will not change. Tarly knew all about that. He had a son who he suspected was the same as Loras and Renly. Weak, effeminate, liked to sing and play with dolls and puppies, listen to music and cook cakes and pastries, stuffing his mouth with them after, and being with his mother and three sisters more than with other boys and men. All he tried to do to make Sam into a man came to naught. He cried and fled and hid behind his mother's skirts every time. Then the gods blessed him with another son, Dickon, and he was all Tarly wanted in a son. Dickon was his squire now but he had recently taken ill with the old army disease, stomach cramps from bad food, and so Lord Tarly had sent him back to Harrenhal, when he was recovering.

Dickon grew into the son Lord Tarly wanted so he let Sam be and for a time there was peace in his home. Then the day came when Sam would soon be sixteen and by all the laws of the kingdoms Sam as first born son had the right to his father's titles and lands. Lord Tarly would have to publicly name him as his heir. That would never happen. He told Sam they were going on a hunt, and Sam would not come back from it. That he would die out there. It was that or take the black. Sam's eyes had watered and he fought to stop himself from crying and finally gasped out that he would take the black. He left the next day before sunrise with two of the household knights, who had orders to take him to Castle Black. They were given a bag of silver for their expenses and a letter to give to the commander of the Night's Watch. They were surprised but did as their lord commanded. Sam begged to be allowed to say goodbye to his mother and sisters and brother but Lord Tarly told him to go with the knights or they would go on that hunt, now. Sam left, and that was the last time he had seen him. It was a hard thing to do, and his wife and daughters had still not forgiven him he knew, but with his family's future at stake he had no choice.

Then came the words of Lord Stark and his children on all that Sam had become and had done and was going to do. He had actually volunteered to go north of the Wall with Jon Snow to face the demons. Maybe he was a man after all. Lord Tarly had been stunned by this news, but he did not second guess himself. Sam had only become a man because of what he, his father, had done, sending him away to the worst place in the world. You became a man at the Wall or you died. Lord Tarly thought he would die and cared not if he did or did not. He did not die and now Tarly truly hoped to see him again some day. But that changed nothing else. Sam had done brave deeds but Tarly knew his eldest son was still a craven at heart. That would not change. Dickon was still his heir. Besides, men of the Night's Watch could not inherit lands or titles. Sam had taken his oaths and nothing could break the words once he said them.

As he and Loras continued to ride along the defensive lines they heard a rider behind them. It was the Imp's sellsword, Bronn. He rode up hard and stopped, shouting as he came up to them.

"I've orders to pull our cavalry across the river to protect the left flank."

"That's madness," Loras said to him. "We need them here to attack the Others on the Kingsroad."

"The Vale knights can do that," Bronn told him. "If they come down the Kingsroad. They tried that once and it didn't work, now did it?

"No, it didn't," Lord Tarly said. "Whose orders? The King's"

"Lord Tyrion's."

"We can't divide our forces," Loras said next.

"I don't really need your permission," Bronn told him. "Most of the cavalry here is Lannister. And since you lot bent the knee I don't think we are much of allies anymore, aye?"

Loras angered. "That was not my idea. I'd sooner see Stannis' head on a spike."

"Careful now," Bronn said. "That's your king you're talking about."

"How would you like your head on a spike?" Loras replied in a dangerous tone.

"Stop this foolishness," Tarly told them sternly. "We are all allies until the Others are done with. The Lannister cavalry are just to the left over there." Loras looked to protest again but Tarly silenced him with a look. "Take your men across, but place them where they can speedily move to any place danger might arise," he told Bronn and the sellsword rode off without another word. An hour later and all the Lannister cavalry was across the frozen Trident and had taken up positions near Lord Harroway's Town.

As he and Loras continued to inspect their lines, Tarly knew morale was suffering. So many days they had spent here in idleness, with men living in tents or dugouts they built in the ground. They were all filthy, cold, and tired. Red rimmed eyes and bearded faces greeted them at every turn. It did not help matters that Loras wore his best armor, cleaned and polished by his squire, and that he was clean shaven and had hardly a stain on his cloak and had a smell of woman's perfume about him. Men could stand much but if they did not trust their commanders or saw they were living better and eating better then they began to grumble. Men who grumbled might not fight so hard when it mattered.

"Go back to your father's tent and report on what Bronn has done," he told Loras and Loras looked miffed for a moment and then did as he was told.

He was gone but a moment when the sky began to darken. Tarly looked up and saw the clouds seem to grow heavier and blacker. Then the first snowflake fell on his upturned nose. As men around him looked up more flakes began to fall. In just a moment it was snowing heavily. He knew what that meant.

Quickly he called to the officers and sergeants nearby. "Prepare your men," he said and that was all that was needed to be said. They all knew what to do.

Lord Tarly rode along the defensive lines and shouted for everyone to get ready and the word was passed left and right for the many miles they held the north bank of the Trident. He hated this linear defensive position but Stannis and the Imp refused to bring the fight to the Others and so here they were. Robert would never had done that. He would have rode hard to the Twins when word came they were under attack. Tarly was the only one to ever beat Robert Baratheon in battle, at Ashford, but Robert had gotten away and so the rebellion had continued.

Now as the snow came down Tarly knew they had to wait for the enemy to come at them and then adjust their plans as the enemy's intentions unfolded. They were strong on the right and left. If the Others came down the Kingsroad again, the center had to hold while the flanks moved in and surrounded the Others. But if Bronn was right and they came at the left flank then things might go awry.

An hour after the first snow fell darkness came and then the snow came as if it was the air itself, so thick hardly a man could be seen in front of another. Soon the tents were covered in it and the trees not yet cut down as well. The river ice was getting buried as well and the glare of fires was muted by the blinding whiteness that filled the very air. Tarly rode to where Lord Tyrell was with his headquarters group, near a place where the Trident bank was low enough for horses to cross over the ice. Out there was where the wooden barrier had been built across two hundred yards of frozen ice to the far south bank.

Lord Tyrell had managed to sit his horse but with his still injured leg he had to be strapped in to prevent him from falling off. Tarly had tried to convince him to move back to Harrenhal and rest a while but he would have nothing for it. Lord Mathis Rowan was fighting a stomach illness as well and been left in command at Harrenhal and was in charge of maintaining their supply lines.

"Where are they?" Ser Loras shouted as the wind began to blow the snow in their faces. All along the lines the men peered north and east but no sign of the enemy came. That's when they heard the first clash of steel to the west far to their rear.

"Gods, they have flanked us," said an officer.

Then came some figures out of the darkness, coming from the direction of the river. "Wights!" shouted the same nervous officer and before Tarly could shout for the men to hold their fire a party of nearby archers loosed off some fire arrows.

Screams came then and then a shout…a human shout. "For the love of the gods, we're not the enemy!"

People staggered up the river bank, short people, almost children…then Tarly knew who they were. "Crannogmen!" he shouted. "Cease fire!"

A man staggered up to them, covered in snow and looking more like a frozen icicle than a man. Tarly and Loras climbed off their horses to meet him.

"I am Howland Reed," he gasped. "I must speak to your leader at once."

Two of his people had been hit by arrows but weren't dead and so they were taken to a healing tent. There were about forty of them altogether. In the light of a torch Reed looked half dead. His hair was covered in snow and he shook and shivered as they spook. His people were just as bad off.

"I am Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill and this is Ser Loras Tyrell, son of Lord Mace Tyrell. What news?"

"The enemy is behind us," Reed managed to say.

"What happened?" Tarly asked him. "Where are the Freys?"

"Dead…mostly. Lord Stevron and some of his brothers were holding a rearguard at a stream just to the south of where the Green Fork and Trident meet. To give time for his people to get away. But they were overwhelmed. I saw Stevron die before we had to run. Most of the Freys died there or they are scattered and running for their lives. We sent riders to you. Why did you not send any help?"

"They refused to leave this spot though my lord argued to move to the Twins," Tarly told him.

"Now we are broken," Reed lamented. "I fear soon you will be as well."

"Gods," cursed Loras. "How many are there?"

"I know not, but you are in the wrong place. You must get your men across the river. Where are the rest? Where are the Lannisters and Stannis?"

"To the east, guarding the Ruby Ford with Ned Stark and some of his northerners and what few Tullys are left," Tarly told him.

"Ned Stark? Here?" Reed said in surprise.

"He arrived about eight days ago but with too few men to matter," Loras said.

Howland Reed then looked past them and walked swiftly to the command group and Lord Tyrell's horse. "Lord Tyrell, are you not?"

"I am."

"You must get your men across the river, my lord."

"You do not give orders here…what is your title?" Mace Tyrell said in what Tarly knew was the voice his lord used when speaking to those he considered beneath his status.

"I am a lord to my people."

"Lord Reed, how do we know this is just not some feint, a ruse?" Lord Tyrell said, his tone more civil. "Perhaps the main force is still coming down the Kingsroad."

"It is no ruse, my lord," Reed said. "There are tens of thousands of them, moving slowly, but they are coming for certain. All the rivers and streams are frozen. This snowstorm will blind you. If you are not there when they arrive, you will never find them until they are attacking your flanks and rear."

"We will take that under advisement," Lord Tyrell said in a dismissive tone.

Reed looked like he wanted to say more but then turned back to Tarly and Loras. "Where is Ned Stark?"

"At the ford," Ser Loras told him and then Reed bid them good luck and he and his people moved off to the east, staggering through the snow. Tarly sent a rider with them so they would have no trouble getting past the battle lines.

"Damn fool," Lord Tyrell said when Reed was gone. "Trying to tell us how to fight."

Tarly was about to argue with him, but then it was too late. Out on the river suddenly flared up a huge fire as the wood on the river burst into flames for its whole length.

"Who gave that command?" Lord Tyrell shouted but then they saw why it was done. The whole river was covered in black figures silhouetted by the flames. Wights.

Orders were shouted and the men facing east and north turned to the west and south. Fire arrows flew and some found their mark but many more sizzled and burned out and fell short in the blowing snow.

"We must charge!" Loras shouted and then before Tarly could stop him he shouted to all the nearby cavalry, about three or four hundred men. "THE ENEMY IS THERE! CHARGE!"

Loras was first on the ice and many more followed him. They moved in front of the fire barrier and soon were among the enemy hacking left and right with their swords. Some horses slipped and went down and some men fell as well and then wights were on them and killing them.

"INFANTRY! FORWARD!" Lord Tarly shouted and as the infantry moved forward with torches in many hands Lord Tarly climbed off his horse for he had no wish to end up flat on his back on the ice with a wight looming over him. He pulled his great Valyrian sword Heartsbane from its scabbard and with the men moving forward he joined the lines.

Down went wights and men, the wights seemingly made to walk on ice and snow, the men staggering across the ice and snow as they fought. Here and there a wight flared into flames and screamed its hideous shriek as it burned. But more men fell than wights and the ice was making footing treacherous for the men.

"I can't tell friend from foe!" one man shouted and Tarly was having the same trouble. In the snow and darkness and glare of the flames all looked alike. The wights were once men and still wore the armor and sigils of the Twins, the Lannisters, of Stannis, and the many houses of the Reach. Heartsbane cut two wights down and then Tarly went to hit another but the man shrieked that he was not a wight and Tarly barely held his sword in check.

The fight was in front of the great pile of burning wood and it gave off some heat but the cold was still so strong it made men want to cry. Tarly killed two more wights and many men rallied to his side as they knew him and his sword that could kill wights and Others. No Others he saw, but out in front the Tyrell cavalry was still fighting among the wights. Men and horses slipped and fell and Tarly pushed his men forward to help the cavalry. A great melee took place on the frozen river, with no semblance of order, as horses fell, men shouted and died, as wights flared up in flames, and as figures loomed up out of the snow and darkness to attack.

And then it happened.

The first sign of trouble was a great sound of a _crack_. It came from where the fires were burning. Then came another _crack_ sounding as if a man bending a pile of sticks in his hands broke them suddenly in two. And then someone shouted. "THE ICE IS BREAKING!"

The first man fell through with a shout and the cracks widened and then more and more cracks appeared and the ice began to break up into separate floating chunks. Men screamed and fell into the freezing waters of the Trident. Horses and wights fell in as well and then all of the ice seemed to be moving and breaking. Tarly was closer to the south bank than the north and so he ran that way and shouted for men to follow him. He leaped from one large piece of ice to the next and fought to keep his balance, knowing if he fell in his armor would drag him under forever. Many men were floundering and screaming for help but if he stopped to help he would soon join them. Horses shrieked and men cried out but nothing would stop him from reaching the far bank.

As he neared the south bank the ice was stronger and held firm and at last the south bank was there and he touched land and collapsed in the snow. Men fell to the ground beside him and soon many more arrived. He got up and shouted for the men to get up, to form lines. He climbed up the south bank to the flatter lands above and saw that all was chaos here as well. The Lannister cavalry was fighting the wights and seemed to be winning, pushing them back.

He looked for Bronn but could not see him anywhere. Then he saw an Other bearing down on him. Heartsbane swung and as the Other rode its hideous undead horse past him Tarly dipped his head and the Other's pale sword just missed his helmet. Heartsbane struck true and the Other turned to ice and snow in an instant. His men cheered and then he shouted for them to form ranks and protect the river bank for those still trying to reach safety. Behind him more men were climbing up. And then he saw Loras.

He was on foot, bedraggled and wet, half frozen and no longer full of his swaggering bravado. His eyes were glassy and in the light of the fires Tarly could see he was in anguish.

"My father…," Ser Loras managed to gasp. "He…he rode across with us. He…"

"Gods. Where is he? Where is Lord Tyrell?" Lord Tarly shouted as he grabbed Loras by his surcoat.

"His horse fell through the ice," Loras gasped. "He was strapped to the saddle. I tried to get him…but…he went under the ice."

"Gods," Tarly swore and he knew his lord was dead, drowned. He then helped Loras up. "Come, there will be time to mourn later."

"My father is dead!" Loras shouted in tears.

"He is, but we are not. If you want to avenge your father there is plenty of killing left to do."

* * *

**Stannis**

"The first reports indicate they are attacking the Tyrells in strength," Ser Godry Farring told Stannis as they stood looking at the map of the dispositions of their forces in his pavilion. Outside a snowstorm was raging and all his men were on high alert but as yet no one was attacking them. "The Imp sent Bronn to bring his cavalry back across the river to refuse the left flank in case they got behind the Tyrells but we don't know if he got there in time or not."

"That should have been done ages ago," Stannis said ruefully. It was a move he had not thought on. He had trusted the Tyrells to make sure the Others did not turn the left flank. Now he knew he should never have done so.

"If the Tyrells collapse we may lose the ford, Your Grace," Ser Justin Massey said next. "If the Others turn the left flank they can come down on the Lannisters' left and roll them up. The Imp must turn his forces even if Bronn is out there with cavalry. They are not enough to stop a strong attack."

"Yes," Stannis told them. "Send a rider. They must pull back and form a line running from north to south. They must protect the ford for as long as they can. Get the Tullys and Northerners there as well. Get everyone to protect the ford from the west. They are not coming down the Kingsroad this time."

"What will you do, Your Grace?" Baelish asked him. Stannis could almost smell the fear on him. He was not one for the battlefield.

"We must make for the ford," Stannis said. "If the Others get there before us, we will have no where to retreat. Saltpans is a ruin, and the sea is no option as there is but Stark's four ships there. And we will have no source of supplies."

"Retreat?" Lord Royce said in surprise. "Your Grace, I think we are being too hasty. The Tyrells might yet hold. The Lannisters can push back the Others. My men can move in support."

"And if we don't hold the ford?" Ser Justin asked. "We will be doomed. The river east of the ford is not totally frozen. We will have no way to retreat south."

"We will expose the Vale to direct attack if we retreat south of the Trident," Lord Royce said. "I cannot abandon my people."

Stannis stared at him. "You and your men are commanded to remain with the army."

There was a long silence as Royce stared back at him. Then Royce turned to Lord Baelish who stood beside him. "I must concur with the King, my lord," Baelish said to Royce's questioning look. "The needs of the realm outweigh the needs the Vale."

Royce looked like he wanted to strangle Baelish. Then he turned back to Stannis and finally he nodded. "As you command, Your Grace."

Stannis turned to Ser Godry. "Send riders to the Starks and Lannisters at once. Send two to make sure the message gets through. The rest of you see to your men and make sure we are not being attacked as well. And prepare them to move to the west as soon as I give the word."

They left and soon only Baelish and Theon Greyjoy remained, along with Sheila, Stannis' cupbearer, who stood behind him.

"Lord Greyjoy, you have had little to say," Stannis commented as he put his fur lined gloves back on and Sheila fastened his cloak over his shoulders, stretching on tiptoes to reach the silver clasp.

"I have no men under my command, Your Grace," Theon said. "What advice I could give would mean little."

Baelish smiled. "I think we could all learn much from the man who took Casterly Rock."

Theon glared at Baelish. "Mock me at your peril, Littlefinger."

"That's enough," Stannis said sharply as he adjusted his cloak as Sheila stepped back from his side. "We have things to do."

"A moment, Your Grace, please," Theon said. Stannis nodded curtly and Theon nodded towards Baelish. "This one you trust. But be warned, Your Grace. I lived with Ned Stark for ten years. I may have betrayed him, aye, it is so. But I know he never lies, and is a man of honor. If he said Baelish told him and Lady Catelyn that the Imp sent the footpad to kill Bran, then I believe him."

Stannis looked at him for a long moment and then at Baelish briefly and back to Theon. "Wait outside for me, Lord Greyjoy."

Theon hesitated and then dipped his head and went out. Stannis turned to Baelish.

"He is right. Ned Stark never lies."

"Your Grace, I would never contradict you, but I think Ned Stark is not such a perfect man as many think he is. He has a bastard son, after all."

"No, he does not," Stannis said. "Jon Snow is not his son." He could see the genuine surprise on Baelish's face. _So your spies never found out this. Good._ "Ned did tell that one lie, yes, but for good reasons, which I do not think you need to know. Too often I have heard this tale of you telling the Starks the Imp tried to kill their son. If you did so it can only be for one reason. You wanted a war between Stark and Lannister. Why, I can imagine. You love Lady Catelyn, I have heard this for years, so maybe you thought Tywin Lannister would destroy Ned Stark for you. Robert used to mock you when in his cups, saying Littlefinger only wanted one woman for his little finger, but Ned Stark got her first. But you married her sister. For the Vale, of course, and I will not judge you too harshly on that point. More men have married for lands and titles than love. I have put all these stories aside for the sake of the realm, because I need you and the Vale. Do not make me regret that decision. Keep Lord Royce in line. If his men have any desires to return home, remind them that traitors are dealt with harshly."

Baelish dipped his head. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will do my duty as always." Then he left the pavilion.

Stannis knew the only person Baelish cared about doing his duty for was Baelish. But he still needed the man. He turned to Sheila. "You shall never repeat a word of all that."

"Never, Your Grace," she stammered.

"Good." He looked around the pavilion then. "We shall have to pack it all up. Leave behind what is not necessary. Make sure all the maps get packed, though. And get yourself ready to move. My belongs should all be packed and put on a wagon first."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"When the wagon is ready tell the driver to go to the ford, and cross over, not to wait for anything."

"Yes, Your Grace." Then she hesitated. "And…after the ford, where shall I tell the men to set up your tent and table?"

He pondered this and knew of only one place where they could be safe and protected from the weather, short of retreating all the way to King's Landing. "Harrenhal. Make for Harrenhal. And when you get there, see the maesters at once. Tell them the King wishes to send a message to Dragonstone."

"Yes, Your Grace…and the message?"

Stannis reached into his inner pocket of his cloak and took out a small raven scroll, sealed and with his sigil stamped into the melted wax. "Give them this. Tell them it is urgent and must be sent without delay. Now go."

She left and Stannis wondered if he was doing the right thing. The Lord of Light seemed to be frowning on them and luck was not on their side any more. Luck had shone for a brief moment, with the death of Tommen. All the rest came to his side, except for the Lannisters and he knew the Imp would soon bend the knee. Stannis enjoyed his glory for one day. Yet now it could all be for nothing if they were defeated and routed here. With Lady Melisandre gone, his wildfire stores empty, and now with their flank turned, he had no choice but to prepare for retreat. Keeping the army intact was the number one priority now. Saltpans was not an option anymore. Harrenhal it had to be. He knew it was ruined but it was the only place large enough to hopefully shelter them and provide some protection. And hopefully when the red lady got his message she would be able to do what she claimed she could do and so save them all.

* * *

**Theon**

The snow was coming down heavily as Baelish exited Stannis' pavilion. Theon was there, waiting for the King, and now that he saw Baelish his face curdled in disgust.

"At least I admit my betrayal," Theon said to him. "You still lie when we all know you did it. I just don't understand why."

But Baelish ignored his sally. "Lord Greyjoy, have you met Ser Lyn Corbray?"

"No, he hasn't," said a voice from behind Theon.

Theon spun around and saw a tall warrior whose shoulders and the crown of his helmet were sprinkled with snow. "Aye, I have heard of you, ser," Theon said. "Ned Stark once told me and Robb about you at the Battle of the Trident. He said few could equal your sword."

"Stark does me an honor," Corbray replied.

"Lord Greyjoy seems to think I had something to do with the way this war started," Baelish said.

"Does he?" Corbray said in a dangerous tone. "Best let that go, my lord."

Theon knew now what was up. "Or what?" he said, his voice sounding not as brave as he had hoped.

Corbray grinned. "My sword is named Lady Forlorn for all the sad ladies left behind after I kill their lovers. Now what lady would mourn you when you are gone?"

"All the ladies," Theon said with a return grin.

Corbray laughed. "A good answer, my lord."

Stannis then came out of the pavilion. "Lord Baelish, best see to your men."

"Yes, Your Grace."

He and Corbray walked off in the snow, and Theon pondered their threat. A few days ago he would have welcomed a sword slashed across his throat, just to end the agony of his imprisonment and the humiliations he had suffered. Now, though, he felt life might become better. Then when he saw Stannis he knew that was foolish. Stannis had saved him from Stark and the Imp. But it was not without a price.

He had never been given a chance. All his life people had decided things for him and now once more he was in the hands of people giving him orders. When he was a small boy it was his father and uncles and older brothers. Then it was the Starks. When he finally became King he was still not in command, not totally. His uncles did not trust him, his sister laughed at him behind his back, and even the whore Shae had betrayed him. Now it was Stannis Baratheon telling him what to do and it galled Theon as it had always galled him with others lording over him.

After he had been dragged to Stannis' camp, men had laughed at him and mocked his title of king. At least Stannis treated him with some decency. He told his serving girl to boil some water and she filled a small wooden tub that was in a house behind the lines. He took a bath, then had a shave and a haircut, ate a hot meal, and was given fresh clothes and a sword. Then Stannis began with the demands. The Iron Islands will swear loyalty to me. The Iron Islands will supply so many ships and men for my wars. The Iron Islands will return to the Lannisters half of the stolen gold if the Lannisters bend the knee, and also will pay a hefty tax to the Iron Throne for rebelling. The Iron Islands will sign papers promising to never rebel again or to be wiped from the face of the world. The Iron Islands…they are mine, the King said. And what do I get, Theon had asked him.

"Your life," Stannis told him. "Do as your are told, Theon Greyjoy, and you can rule your islands and know no Lannister or Stark will ever set foot there without your leave. That is the price you must pay for my protection."

"My people will scorn me and kill me," Theon told him in reply. "They despise weakness."

"If they do so they will all be crushed. Tell your uncles and sister that when you return. Robert may have been willing to forgive a rebellion. I will not."

But he might never get that chance to return to his homeland. The Others were out there and war had come calling again.

When Baelish and Corbray left Stannis turned to Theon. "Are you well enough to ride a horse?"

"I am, Your Grace."

"Good. I want you to start leading the supply columns to the Ruby Ford."

"Supply columns? Are we retreating already?"

Stannis looked up in the dark sky at the falling snow. "Every time it snows like this they attack. Three days we held them on the Kingsroad but still they broke our lines. Three weeks we have been here, longer even, and still they will break our lines again, I am certain. How can you stop that which cannot be killed?"

"But…where will we go?"

"Harrenhal. Lead them to the ford and then south to Harrenhal."

"I know not the way."

"Some of my officers do. But you are in command. It is time you earned your keep, Lord Greyjoy."

"The way west will lead me past Ned Stark's camp."

Stannis grunted. "You still fear him?"

"Aye," he reluctantly admitted.

"Stark had his chance to kill you. If he did not then, he will not now. Go, and do your duty for your King. I will see you at Harrenhal. Lord Rowan is in command there. He is a Tyrell bannerman, but they are all my bannermen now. Be good enough to remind him of that if he gives you any grief. Now go."

Theon went. He found the supply columns, found the one in charge and told him the King put him in charge now. The man obeyed without question, and soon Theon was given a horse and he mounted up. A short time later they started moving west.

All along the battle lines the men were waiting and talking and as Theon and the first supply column passed by they shouted out questions and asked what was happening. The officers with Theon told them to stay in their places until the King gave them orders and no one moved.

Then as they neared the end of the King's lines and approached where the Northerners had their banners planted in the snow, the storm grew worse. Blinding snow lashed at them and men and beast alike cowered and bent in the blowing snow. All was white before their eyes. Just ahead he could barley make out a wagon and he rode up beside it he saw the driver and the girl called Sheila who was Stannis' servant. Theon was about to shout to them when something move in the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to shy his horse away from an attacking…thing.

The raging storm covered the sneak attack by a party of wights. Theon had never seen them in battle before. When they had attacked Riverrun he had been safe inside his cell so he had not seen the battle when Jaime Lannister and Lord Edmure and the Blackfish had routed the wights.

Now he saw them as they attacked the moving supply column. All along it wights charged out of the snow and cut down horse and mule and oxen and men alike. The girl Sheila screamed in terror as a wight swung its axe and hit the driver of her wagon in the lower leg. As the man screamed he fell off the wagon and the wights converged on him, hacking him to pieces.

"Come with me!" Theon shouted to the girl and she leaped out of the wagon and onto his horse's back. She wrapped her hands around his waist and he turned his horse south and plunged into the forest just short of the Stark camp.

On they rode but the snow was deep, and the trees many, and the horse had trouble moving. Soon it bogged down in some deep snow and then the girl fell off the back. Theon jumped down with her and they left the horse behind as they struggled through the snow.

A sound made him turn and there were two wights, one with a sword, the other with an axe. "GO!" he shouted to the girl and she did not wait. Theon pulled out his sword and swung at them. He cut the rotten arm off the first one, the one with the axe, who looked like an old man and was dressed in rags. The second one had been a soldier of Stannis and had on chain mail. Theon slashed at it and it slashed back and they went at it for a few moments. But Theon was swifter and he cut its head off and the thing was blind yet it kept slashing towards him. The other one had picked up its axe with its still attached arm and came at Theon again. He then cut the head of this one as well and it too went stumbling about. He had no fire and so could do nothing else. Theon turned and ran towards where he thought the river was located.

He was weak from his earlier ordeals and this recent fight and was soon exhausted from trying to run in the deep snow. He came into a clearing then, where there was less snow, and fewer trees, and he fell to his knees and crawled under a tree to get away from the snow and wind for a few moments. When he looked up he could scarcely believe what he saw.

It was a weirwood, a small one, and in the dim light he still knew the white wood and red leaves he had seen many times before in Winterfell's godswood. The human like face was small but it was still there. He imagined if Stannis' men had known of this tree they would have cut it down and burned it by now. They loved fire but had no love for the old gods or even the Seven. He had heard these men whisper that Stannis' promise of freedom of worship was a joke. He would rescind that promise once the kingdom was secure. The Lord of Light expected nothing less, and neither would the red woman they spoke of, for it was she who truly commanded the King.

Theon did not worship much but now he got up on his knees and prayed, not to the Drowned God but to the old gods of the North.

"Forgive me for what I have done," he said aloud. "I was rash and stupid. I had to prove to my father and sister and uncles I was one of them. But I wasn't anymore. I should never have left Robb's side. I should have stayed with him and fought with my only true brother. Forgive me and I will set things to rights, I promise. Hear my words, old gods of the North. Give me the strength to continue."

And then as if by some miracle a voice answered.

"Theon Greyjoy, you shall never be forgiven for what you did to my home and people."

He gasped in shock. He knew that voice. It was not an old god, but a young boy's voice. A crippled young boy's voice.

"Bran? But...how?"

But he never knew. A cold icy pain shot through his back and he screamed. Theon twisted around and saw them there, more icy blue eyes glowing in the semi-darkness. The pain was from one of their swords, now covered in his blood. Warmth he felt as his blood gushed out and down his back. He felt the darkness close in around his eyes and he at last felt some peace. He was dying and soon would be in the Drowned God's watery hall with his ancestors.

Then he had one last panicky thought. I am far from the sea. How will I find the Drowned God's hall?

The coldness closed in on him and then all was black and he knew he was dead.

But why can I still think? Why do I feel?

Then came the cold, such cold as he had never felt in all his life, not ever. It was as if the cold was pumping in his veins and his blood was turning to ice and his heart was one ball of ice. He wanted to scream but no sound came from his mouth.

Then he could see again. Then he could move.

He stood and all around him were other men, men with different sigils on their surcoats. Lannister lions, Stark direwolves, the Twin's towers, the Reach's golden flower, and Stannis' fiery heart and stag.

A hand reached to his side and pulled out the sword Stannis had given him and thrust it into his right hand. He took it and then he saw the eyes. All the men had icy blue eyes. Then they turned away from him and started walking slowly through the forest. Theon felt the tug to follow them. And so he did, and moving his feet in a shuffling walk like they did, he joined the wight armies and was human no more.

But why can I still think? Why can I still remember what I once was?

* * *

**Bronn**

The attack would never work and he knew it from the get go. The cavalry could run the wights down but could not burn them. Men only had two hands, with no third for a torch. One hand was needed for the reins and one for the weapon. "Fuck," he said to himself. He turned to the man with the horn. "Sound the retreat."

The retreat was sounded and the men started to pull back. That's when he saw Lord Tarly on the riverbank with Ser Loras.

"What the fuck you doing over here?" he shouted to them.

"Fighting!" Loras shouted back. He looked wild and his eyes were like they were on fire.

"Well, you're welcome to it. Bring your infantry over the ice and lined them up here. Cavalry's no good."

"You must give us a chance to form a line here," Lord Tarly told him. "We must have time."

"Aye, I'll give you time," Bronn said. He turned to the man with the horn again. "Wait till they get back here and then sound the charge again."

And so they did it, four times they charged and four times they reassembled and each time they had fewer men than before. Soon Tarly and Loras had thousands of infantry back on the south bank, east of where they had set the river on fire. Fools. Bronn had heard reports of how hundreds of Tyrell cavalry and infantry had drowned when the ice cracked. Some even said Mace Tyrell was dead.

For an hour the lines held against all attacks. And then they too began to crack and Tarly ordered them to retreat while they could and to go east past Lord Harroway's Town. The town was burned to give them light and to slow the wights and Others. The people had fled ages ago. On they moved back and back, slowly moving toward the Ruby Ford. The snow kept falling and the wind kept blowing and they were all miserable. Men fell and wights fell and a few Others were killed.

Then the Hound was there. "We faced the lines west," he shouted to Bronn over the noise of the blowing snow. "Stark and Stannis are pulling back to the ford behind us. The Tyrells are mostly across now too, what's left of them. Everyone is retreating to Harrenhal. How long can you hold them?"

"Not long. Sooner move back behind you lot. We've had it. Wait. Did you say Harrenhal? Fuck no. We'll get trapped in there!"

"It's that or die out here in the cold and snow. There is no where else. The fuckers are too many. We've even had them behind us trying to cut Stannis' supply lines. But his men and Stark's put most of them to the torch."

"Shit. Right," Bronn said. West he wanted to go, but no way he was going that way…yet. "Harrenhal it is."

Thirty minutes later and he was back inside the Lannister lines which now faced west. They were hastily built of logs and overturned wagons and whatever else they could throw up. He found Tyrion arguing with Lord Tully.

"You will abandon the west?" Lord Tully was saying. "My people are out there! Yours as well!"

"Riverrun will hold and so will the Tooth, for a long time," Tyrion was saying in calming tones. "We cannot stay out here, not in this weather. The men will all be dead after a few more days of this. We need shelter!"

"Gods," Edmure said in weariness and then he just shook his head and went back to his men.

Then there was a respite from the attacks. Before long Stark came along with his son and trailing behind were a bunch of short people, one of who Bronn knew as Lord Reed. Then came Stannis and his lackeys and his army, and long lines of Vale knights, all mostly still intact because they had done little fighting.

"Report," Stannis said to Bronn when they found an empty house in the village to gather the commanders.

"We got fu…crushed. They was all over the south side. On the ice and south of the river. Lord Tarly…ah, here he is now."

Tarly and Loras came into the small house, both brushing snow off their cloaks. "I am afraid Lord Tyrell is dead, Your Grace," was the first thing Tarly said and everyone was clearly shocked at this news.

"That is grievous news," Stannis said. "How did he die?"

"He drowned when the ice broke on the river," Loras told them in a despondent tone. "I...I could not save him."

"We lost many men," Tarly reported. "But the rest fought bravely. We killed thousands of the things. But they just keep coming."

Everyone else reported on what they had done and were now doing. Then Ned Stark looked at the King. "What orders, Your Grace?"

"To Harrenhal we must try to go," Stannis said and then he turned to Tyrion. "Can you hold the lines?"

"We can. But who will hold them for us when it is our turn to retreat…oh, I see. Are we to be sacrificed for the good of the realm?"

Stannis grunted. "You will pull back your men when an opportunity presents itself."

Lord Edmure spoke up. "We will stay as well, with what few men we have left."

"Good," Stannis said. He then looked to Lord Tarly.

"We are spent, Your Grace," Tarly said. "We need rest and food and shelter for our wounded."

"Yes, you have done well, my lord," Stannis told him. "Prepare your men to head south." Tarly and Loras left them.

Lord Royce spoke up. "I will stay and help form the rearguard, Your Grace."

Stannis looked at Lord Royce, then decided something. "No, I still need one experience intact cavalry force. You will join the retreat."

"My men are no cowards. We wish to fight!"

"No one said you were craven, my lord," Stannis said sternly. "I need you at Harrenhal. See to your men and begin heading south.

Lord Royce flushed and then left the house without another word. Now Stannis looked to Ned Stark.

"We will stay as well," Stark said.

There was a long moment of silence and then Stannis nodded. "Very well. With the dawn they may cease their attacks and you can all get away. I wish you well, my lords." Then he was gone.

"Nice of our great king to say that," Bronn said after Stannis left.

Stark grunted. "Harrenhal. It's a trap. Like Winterfell was."

"We will die out here from the cold and snow sooner," Tyrion said.

"Aye," Stark replied. "Let us see to our defenses, my lords."

Outside in the dark and snow it was hard to see anything so they lit more bonfires. Patrols were sent a few hundred yards west but reported no signs of the enemy. As the long lines of men moved south behind them, the Blackfish grumbled. "There he goes...leaving us to die alone."

"The King must be safe with the bulk of the army," Stark said. "We must give them time to get away. We must hold the enemy here for a time."

Howland Reed sighed. "We can't stop them, Ned. Anywhere. Not here for sure. Not at Harrenhal, either."

"Time, we need more time," Stark said. And then he saw his daughter arriving and he walked over to where she was leading a wagon and two young boys that sat on the wagon. "Where have you been?" he shouted and then their talk was more quiet.

Tyrion turned to Bronn. "I want you to get Shae and Pod and tell them to go to Harrenhal," Tyrion said to him.

"She won't like it. Best do it yourself."

"Fine, I will do it. Stay here and please don't run away until I give the order."

"As you command," Bronn said in a mocking tone.

Robb Stark looked at him. "Do you always talk to him like that?"

"Aye."

Then Bronn heard a commotion and he saw Ned Stark talking to his daughter in a louder voice and then she was angry and she shouted at him.

"No, I am staying here where I belong!"

She stalked off and went to where the boys were leading the wagon and she started shouting orders at them and they started to get some wounded men out of the wagon and move them into one of the small houses that was in the village.

"I guess that's where we crawl to if we get cut," Bronn said.

Robb Stark said nothing as he walked over to the small house where his sister was. The Hound was standing nearby Bronn and Bronn saw him looking towards the house.

"What happened today between you two anyways?" Bronn asked.

"Nothing you would ever understand," the Hound said and he stalked of towards the lines. Bronn didn't give a shit, he was just curious. He went and found a jug of wine and some bread and cheese and found a warm place next to a roaring fire and ate and drank till he was sated.

The gods were kind for once and the enemy did not attack again. Never was a dawn greeted with such joy but it was a dark dawn, with grey clouds and the snow still falling, though the wind was less than before. The men were exhausted and cold and wet from all the snow. Food was cooked and passed out to the men and some tried to sleep but most couldn't. Soon the last of the retreating soldiers was gone and they were left alone. Bronn guessed between the Lannisters, Tullys, and Starks they had about less than seven thousand men at arms, plus about a thousand servants and other supports.

Bronn walked over to the Kingsroad after a short nap and sent two patrols across the Ruby Ford in case the wights decide to come that way after all. Stark had placed most of his men facing north but on the south side of the ford. He saw Robb Stark over there and walked over to him.

"Get some sleep?" Bronn asked.

"A little. You?"

"Aye, a little."

Just then a patrol returned from across the ford. It seems they had someone with them, a young girl. "Found her sleeping in an abandoned tent," the patrol leader said.

"I know you," Robb Stark said to the girl. "You're King Stannis' servant, yes?"

"Sheila, my lord," the girl said as she shivered. "I got lost when the wights attacked the supply column. Theon Greyjoy save me but…I think he might be dead."

"Dead?" Robb Stark said in surprise. "No…no, the gods would not be that cruel."

Sheila looked confused and Bronn just laughed. "Come now, not to fret none. Let's get you some food and a place to sleep."

"No," the girl said in a loud and urgent tone. "I must get to Harrenhal! I must send the message!"

"What message?" Robb asked her.

"For the King. He said it's very important. I must give it to the maester."

Robb bent down close to her face and asked in a kind voice. "Where was the message for?"

The girl blinked twice. "For Dragonstone, he said. I must send it, or he will be angry. Please help me, my lords."

"Aye," Robb Stark said as straightened up. "We will help you. Come, my father will want to talk to you first."


	7. Chapter 7 Third Battle of the Trident 2

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 3 Chapter 7 The Third Battle of the Trident Part 2**

_Again this chapter will be from many view points._

**Eddard**

Lord Eddard Stark stood in the blowing snow and stared across the frozen river to the north, hardly feeling the cold as his mind raced on many things. A long time ago he had been on this river bank once before, but that had been a hot day, a blazing hot day, with a sun glaring down on the ranks of men, the ford waters hardly reaching their knees as men struggled and died for what they believed was the right side of things. Now there was only one side, and all men were on that side, as they fought an enemy so unimaginable that it was hard to grasp them as real. But real they were and Ned Stark knew they would not stop for anything.

He was looking for signs of them, looking for trouble, and thinking on what he should do now. Much had happened in less than a day. His daughter was in love with a man he despised and now she was defying his orders to return home. The Others had attacked in force and had broken their ranks on the Trident. The Freys were mostly dead, including their lord Stevron, on whom Ned had placed many hopes. The Tyrells had been routed and their lord was also dead, falling through the ice and drowning while strapped to his dying horse. There had been no time to search for his or the hundreds of other men's bodies that now lay under the ice. They would not be found until spring…if spring ever came again. And now he learned two more things. Theon Greyjoy might be dead. And his King might be going back on his word.

Ned took the small rolled up raven message from his pocket and held it in his gloved right hand. Such a small thing, he thought, and it could bring ruin to my daughter and her husband. Or it could save us all. No, that was madness. No one could raise a stone dragon, not even the woman many said had unspeakable powers. That much he knew, or the world made no sense whatsoever. And one more thing he knew. If Stannis did give the order, then Ned Stark would never forgive him.

Robb and Bronn had brought the shivering servant girl called Sheila to where Ned was resting in the small house he and Sansa and Robb had shared when they had first arrived on the Trident. Nymeria was sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, snowing melting from her fur. Then she perked up and the door opened and Robb, Bronn, Grey Wind, and the girl came in.

"Father, this is Sheila, a servant for the King," Robb said as Bronn shut the door to keep out the snow and wind. All were covered in snow and were cold. Grey Wind sat by his sister in front of the fire and shook off the snow on his fur. Ned had seen the girl in Stannis' pavilion and had heard the story on how she had replaced Davos Seaworth's son who had been the King's squire and was now dead. He offered them chairs and Robb got the girl some mulled wine that Ned had been preparing on the stove. Robb handed him and her cups of the hot wine as she started to explain about having to hurry to Harrenhal to give a message to the maester to send to Dragonstone.

As soon as she said that Ned knew what was in the message. "When did the King give you this order?" Ned asked her.

"Just after the battle started, my lord, but I got lost when the wights attacked," the girl said as she sipped her hot wine. Bronn took a cup of wine as well, but refused hot wine, preferring it as it was, and drank his cup down in one gulp.

"She also said Greyjoy is dead," Bronn said causally as he helped himself to the half full bottle that was on the table.

"What's this?" Ned replied in surprise and looked to Robb.

"Aye, so she says," Robb said in a heavy voice as he picked up the kettle from the stove and poured some mulled wine into a pewter cup and then took a sip.

Ned knew his son had no love for Theon Greyjoy now, and wanted him dead as much as Ned did, but he also knew Robb wanted to be the one to swing the sword at Theon's neck.

The girl explain about how the wights attacked them and Theon had saved her but then the last she saw of him he was fighting two wights in the snow while she ran away.

"He saved me," she said, almost in tears, her cheeks red from the cold and the wine.

"Dead he may be," Robb said next. "I looked for him in Stannis' retreating men and didn't see him. No one has seen him since just after the battle started."

"If he ain't dead then he's run away," Bronn said. "I'd run away too if I had so many looking for my head."

Ned knew Theon would not do that. "No, he would not run. Not with Stannis protecting him. Theon may be many things but a craven he never was."

"No…just a traitor," Robb said bitterly.

"I'm sorry, my lords, but I must go to the King. He needs me," Sheila said after a moment of quiet. "Can I have a horse? Please?"

"Wait, child," Ned told her. "It is still snowing hard and we don't know where the wights are. You cannot go unescorted to Harrenhal. Wait until we all move together."

Then she took out the tiny scroll that could mean so much. "But…I must get this to the maesters."

"Not to worry," Bronn told her. "I'm sure Stannis will send a fresh message once he knows you never made it so far."

Ned knew he was right and so did Robb. They looked at each other and then Robb looked at the tiny message. "We must know what it says."

Sheila wrapped her tiny hand around it. "You can't! It's the King's message!"

Ned looked at her long and steady. "I am one of the King's lords. Do you know me?"

"Yes, Lord Stark, I saw you at Harrenhal many times. Hot Pie said you were a good man."

"Hot Pie?" Bronn said in surprise. "The fat baker's boy?"

"That's him," Sheila said. "And he's not fat…my lord. I mean…he's just a little fat. He saved me from Polliver when we escaped the Mountain's men at Harrenhal. Killed him, he did."

"Polliver," Bronn said with a snort. "He rode with the Mountain I heard. The Hound wondered why he never showed up at Casterly Rock with Ser Gregor. Now we know. So the baker's boy's a killer."

"He's in White Harbor now," Robb told Sheila. "He told Arya about you. Said you were…friends."

She smiled. "How is he?"

"Fine when we left him," Ned told her. "Now, Sheila. You know I am a loyal lord to the King. I will make sure he gets the message."

She hesitated and then handed over the tiny rolled up message. Ned took it and felt a twinge of guilt over this subterfuge, but he had to think on Arya and Gendry first and foremost. He slipped it into a pocket and then asked Bronn to take the girl to find her food and a warm place to rest.

When they were gone, Robb looked at him. "We must read it."

"Not yet…I need time to think. Get some rest. You will need it."

"But…the message. It must mean he is ordering her to kill Gendry."

"I fear as much. But this is the King's message. To break the seal…it is treason."

"Yes…it is."

They said nothing for a few moments as the implications on all sank in. "Get some rest, my son," Ned said again.

"First I will look in on Sansa. See if she needs anything."

"Aye."

Robb hesitated at the door. "Father…you must forgive her. She cannot help herself, as Arya could not with Gendry."

"I know. But it is not the same. Gendry never killed our people, never was our enemy. I cannot allow it."

"No, you can't," Robb agreed. "She will marry Willas Tyrell if the gods are kind." Robb was about to leave when he stopped. "Seven hells!"

"Why do you swear?"

"I just realized. Lord Tyrell is dead, so now his son Willas is his heir. He is the lord of the Reach."

"Aye," Ned replied. "If they marry, then Sansa will be the first lady of the Reach."

Robb's face grew serious. "Father…the southern lords will not like this match."

He hadn't thought on that. "Maybe so."

"They will want one of their own daughters to marry Willas. Sansa is an outsider, not one of their own."

Robb was right he feared. "Say nothing to Sansa for now. I will talk on it later with her. I need time to think. I will inspect our lines and see our men while I do so."

And so now he stood, and thought, and felt the cold hardly at all, his worries were so much. As he stood there Tyrion Lannister came along with Bronn, the two struggling in the snow where it was deeper in places.

"Lord Stark," Tyrion hailed him, snow covering his furs and hat, his stunted form barely tall enough to be out of the snow where it was piled high by the wind. "I think it is time we got away from this cursed place. We have enough light and there is no sign of the Others."

Ned knew he was right. "Are the Tyrell wounded all away?"

"They are. So are all our wounded. Your daughter and the maesters are readying the last convoy to leave for Harrenhal. Lord Tully and the Blackfish and their men will escort them. Lord Reed and his people are leaving as well."

Leaving, all of them. But for where? Another trap. And then what? Pray to the gods, all the gods, for someone to save them? They were beyond saving themselves, now with so many dead and wounded, sick and frozen.

But leave here they must, if just so a few could live a few more days. It was time. "Aye. I must see them off and then we will pull back the rest of our forces. What cavalry is left will form the rear guard."

They found the convoy forming up just south of the small village. The snow was lessening but was still falling and Ned knew the wagons would have troubles, even on the Kingsroad. More than three dozen wagons were loaded with wounded and sick men and what supplies they could save. Besides the wagons were many men on horses, readying to escort them. He saw off Lord Edmure and the Blackfish, and also his friend Howland Reed and his people, who had been given some horses that once belonged to men who had no more need of them. Sansa was among them, and he wanted to have words with her, but now was not the time. He said a quick goodbye to them, and told Sansa to be careful and mind her uncles' orders, which she promised to do.

Howland rode his horse at the end of the column. "Not to worry, old friend, I will keep an eye on her," he said and then rode off with the rest.

Howland Reed had loomed out of the snow the night before, so unexpected and so covered in snow Ned hardly recognized him when Ser Wendel had escorted him to a small log hut that served as Ned's quarters at the front lines.

"Lord Stark, it is good to see old friends," Howland said as he shook the snow from his clothing. Ned had not seen in him in almost six or seven moons, since they crossed the Neck when Ned was trying to take his people home. So much had happened since then.

"Howland?" he had said in surprise. "What is happening?" He invited his friend to sit by his fire and gave him hot food and mulled wine and made sure his men took care of the rest of Howland's people. And then they sat and talked on all. Howland told him all about the battles by the Twins and Ned told him about his children Jojen and Meera and where they were now. Howland was glad to know that they and Bran were finally going north and that Jon had found Lightbringer and knew who he truly was. Then Howland's face became disquiet and Ned knew the hardest thing of all for his friend to say to him was that he had broken his word and had told Tyrion Lannister the truth about Jon.

"It is done and cannot be undone," Ned told his friend. "I have also told all my family this truth."

"How did Catelyn take it?"

"Not well. But she understands why it was done. I have told Stannis as well and he has no hard feelings towards Jon. Stannis admitted he is not the Prince reborn. But we cannot let the armies know this as his men place much stock in this tale."

"They must surely suspect by now," Howland replied. "If he was truly the Prince why are they being defeated at every turn?"

"They may suspect but fear keeps them in line. Stannis has always been a harsh man. More so since he took up with his new god."

"New gods, old gods, we need them all," Howland said. Then his face grew serious again. "Ned…at the Twins, after I told him about Jon and Bran, Tyrion Lannister admitted to me the truth of Bran's accident."

Ned felt his breath catch. "Go on," he managed to say.

"It is as you long suspected. Bran saw Jaime and Cersei, together, as man and woman. Jaime pushed him from the window."

"Gods," Ned said, shaking his head. "Long I have thought it so. Bran even remembered. Yet still every time I confront Tyrion he avoids the issue. Just a few days past I told him Bran remembered and he once more avoided answering me directly. Then he told another incredible story about Joffrey and it was forgotten. He said…"

"Joffrey sent the footpad?"

"Aye," Ned replied in surprise. "So…to you he told all. How strange. Did he also admit his brother and sister killed Jon Arryn?"

"No, and it seems Cersei and Jaime both still deny it, though the Kingslayer admitted to the Imp about pushing Bran out the window."

The stupidity of it all made Ned want to scream. "So many secrets, so much death…all for what? So they could love each other while the realm bled? And Joffrey…why he did it, I shall never understand. Cat still bears the scars on her hands. And to think I wanted to let that boy marry my daughter."

"Stannis put him to rights."

"Aye. Though some men say that was murder more than justice."

Howland shrugged. "No matter. He deserved to die."

"Aye. He did. I hope he is burning is some hell for the torment he caused my family."

No sooner had he said these words than Ser Wendel came back with reports that the Tyrells were being attacked. Ned sent messengers to Stannis with the news as they prepared their own defenses. Long they waited, hearing the clash off to the left, seeing flames flare up in the darkness, but unable to move without knowing what was happening for fear of breaking the lines.

As they waited Howland had one more question."Ned, why did no one come to help us at the Twins?"

He sighed heavily. "We feared ambush on the Kingsroad. I have but a small force here. Stannis and the Lannisters would not move. I agreed with them, but fear it was a mistake now. If only I…"

"No, my lord, you have said enough. I understand. You have already lost many up north, have you not?'

"Aye. How many I suppose we may never know."

It was then the attack on the King's supply column came and Ned sent Robb and Ser Wendel to the right to deal with it with a hundred men, half carrying torches. They came back a short time later and said all the wights were dead again or had fled into the woods and Robb would not risk sending men in there in the darkness and snow. Later he learned Theon and Sheila had been among those being attacked but no one had known this at the time.

"And your sister? Is she well?" Ned asked his son after he made his report on the attack. Sansa's healing tent was just back of the battle lines, south of a footpath that ran parallel to the river.

"She is caring for some men who got hurt," Robb had told him. "I put two men as guards and those two young boys from White Harbor I gave her yesterday to help her are still there. Nymeria is there as well."

Later reports came that all was not well on the Tyrell side of the lines. Then came Ser Godry from Stannis' camp. "The King commands all to fall back to the ford and cross to the south bank in an orderly fashion, Lord Stark. We will pull out and fall back behind your men and then you will come after us. The Lannisters are building a line facing west."

"Are things so bad?" Ser Wendel asked him.

"They are," Ser Godry replied. Then he lowered his voice. "We fear the Tyrells are broken and the whole position compromised. The King wishes to fall back to Harrenhal."

And so began the great retreat. In the haste and hustle Ned looked for Sansa but could not find her. Robb told him she was with the supply train and it was well protected. Then came an order for Ned to meet with the King in one of the small houses in the village south of the river. There they all learned Lord Mace Tyrell was dead and that hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Lannister and Tyrell men had been killed on the left flank. And little time had there been to burn any bodies, which meant that as their numbers dwindled the enemy's ranks were growing. King Stannis gave his orders and then left for Harrenhal.

Outside Sansa finally arrived with a wagon with the two boys, Nymeria, and many wounded. As he stalked toward her Ned was mad, mad about the retreat, mad about what was happening between her and Sandor Clegane, mad about having to worry over her. Cat had been right. He should have left her behind in White Harbor. Now that he was feeling ten times better, perhaps he could find a way to send her back to her mother. There she would be in danger still, but also far away from Clegane.

"Sansa, where have you been?" he shouted at her, not wishing to do so, but his anger got the best of him.

"Caring for dying men, Father," she replied without even looking at him. Her furs and boots were covered in snow as was the hood of her cloak that topped her fur hat. "Hold the horses," she said to one of the boys and he grabbed the reins as Sansa walked to the back of the wagon.

"You must leave this place," Ned said next. "I want you to go to Saltpans and board a ship for White Harbor."

Now she turned on him and her eyes were ablaze with anger. "I belong here!"

"I needed you, aye, but I am better now. You must return north."

"Why? Because I am just a girl who only gets in the way?"

Her anger took him aback. Never had she spoken to him like this in her life. "No…I know you are doing good work, but…"

"So let me continue to do it," she said, more quiet now. Then her eyes narrowed. "It is because of him, isn't it?"

"You know how I feel."

"Yes, Father, and you know how I feel and how he does as well. I am not leaving."

"Because of him?" he asked in an incredulous tone he did not mean but again could not help himself.

"Yes, and because I am needed here."

"I command you to return to White Harbor," he said in his lord's voice.

He thought she would obey at last but she steeled herself once more and in the darkness and snow her eyes seems as if on fire. "No, I am staying where I belong!"

She turned from him and started shouting at the two boys to go into that house over there and prepare it for the wounded men. Ned stood in the blowing snow and knew she would never listen to him and that she was also no longer his little girl. Just thirteen years old and already a woman. So be it. But she and Clegane would never be, even if he had to kill the man.

Robb came up to him then. "Everyone was watching you."

"I had to have words with her. I tried to get her to go back to White Harbor."

"Maybe we should as well. Harrenhal is a trap as Winterfell was. You said so yourself."

"I know. But the King commands…"

"The King does not know what he is doing," Robb said in a low whisper.

He knew Robb was right. Stannis was only reacting to the enemy, not taking the fight to him. Robert never would have waited here for three weeks for an attack to come at him. But Robert was dead and his brother was King now. And that was what mattered now. "We must obey. He is our King."

And so now they were obeying. Left behind to protect the bulk of the army, to be sacrificed. But the gods were kind for once. The snow began to abate somewhat, the winds died down, and no attacks came at them. When the supply column with Sansa left he pulled his men back from the ford, and soon the Lannisters came last, with Bronn and Clegane leading about four hundred cavalry as a rearguard, all that was left of the once famous Lannister cavalry that had numbered thousands. As they mounted up Robb told him that Bronn had said Tyrion was mad that his woman Shae and his squire had not left when he had ordered them to and had just gotten away less than an hour ago.

On they trudged down the Kingsroad, through bare patches of ground and deep drifts, with all of them bundled up from the cold, looking left and right and over their shoulders for the enemy. Robb led an advanced guard of men on horse, with Grey Wind loping beside them. In the rear came Bronn and Clegane and the Lannister cavalry. In the center came the wagons and many men on foot, and Ned knew more men would be dead of exhaustion or suffer from frostbite by the time they reached Harrenhal. Winter was no time to be campaigning. But what if the enemy gave you no choice?

And all the while as they moved slowly south Ned Stark's mind was on the tiny raven scroll in his pocket and what it could mean for two people he cared about dearly. By nightfall or early the next day Stannis would be at Harrenhal and would learn the girl Sheila never made it, and was now bundled up on a wagon in the center of Ned's column. Ned's only hope was that the maesters had no birds for Dragonstone. If there were no birds then Ned might have a chance to convince Stannis to give up this mad plan or at least wait. If he refused Ned knew not what he would do.

* * *

**Shae**

Shae knew what cold and snow was, being from the northern lands of Essos. But her homeland had never experienced a winter like this. Being inside the snug little house in the village was one thing, with it being chilly even with a fire in the hearth, but outside it was a freezing nightmare. She saw Tyrion and the rest off as they rode to see what Ned Stark wanted at the ford and then she quickly ran back inside the house.

Pod came back to the house about an hour after they had all left for the commanders' meeting. She was sitting at the table drinking a cup of wine when he came in and by the look on his face she knew it was not good.

"Tell me," she said as she stood up.

"They are coming…and Lord Tyrion wants us away from here."

"Fuck that," she said in a low growl. "Tell him to come tell me himself if he wants me gone."

Pod gulped and looked down at his feet. "He…he wants you safe."

"And what about him?"

"He will stay with the soldiers."

"He's a fucking dwarf, for the love of the gods! He has no business fighting wars! Leave that for the men who have the strength. His brains are all that is saving these bastards and now he wants to fight again? Last time he almost got killed. Where's my cloak? I will tell him myself that if he stays, I stay, too!"

She picked her cloak up from the sofa and wrapped it around herself and made for the door. But Pod was blocking it.

"I can't let you, my lady, he said…"

"I am no lady and I don't care what he said. I must see him!"

"Please…he will be mad at me."

"No, he will not be mad at you. He is never mad at you, or Bronn, or me. Not even the Hound these days. Now out of my way!"

"No."

Now he had drawn himself up, this boy of not much stature or strength but who was loyal to Tyrion to the end. She knew Pod would never move and she had not the heart to force him. That much love Tyrion inspired in them all…the little shit.

She sat on the sofa by the hearth. "I am not going away. And where would we go to anyway? Harrenhal? Another fucking hellhole. You go find him and tell him if I go I will keep going until I find someplace warm. Even if it is across the Narrow Sea."

"He can't leave them alone…even for you."

"Why not? They hate him and make jests at him behind his back and even to his face. Even his own people. He owes them nothing!"

Pod shuffled his feet a bit and then came to the sofa and sat with her. "He…he's a good man," he said. "One of the few. That is why he can't leave them."

She knew he was right. "Gods," she said. "Then we can't leave him either."

So they stayed, but Pod at least convinced her to pack up their belongings and have the bags ready by the door. He then went out into the cold and found a wagon and two mules and a driver and told him to stand by.

Hours later they had to leave after all, all of them, when it had all gone to hell. The Tyrells were broken, the Lannister cavalry mainly sacrificed to hold the Others back, and now Tyrion and the Hound we trying to form a line of men facing west. He came back to the house then and he was mad for once, mad at Pod and her.

"Seven hells!" he shouted when he saw them. "I told you to go! Now it may be too late! The Others will be here by the next hour!"

She looked at him, all covered in snow, shivering, and she knelt and kissed him and his anger began to leave his face. "I could not leave without saying goodbye," she said.

"Gods…well, I suppose not. Now there is not a moment to lose. I see you at least had the sense to see that the bags are packed and a wagon is outside. Lets us load the wagon and then off you go."

Ten minutes later and it was time to leave. She gave him one last hug and kiss and cared not who saw them and neither did he. Pod helped her up in the back of the wagon and she lay down on their bags and pulled some blankets over her. She didn't see them talking but heard their words.

"Now Pod," began Tyrion. "You make for the Kingsroad and then turn for Harrenhal. We will be along by day's end or tomorrow at the latest. Do not stop for anything. Many more are going with you so stick together. I have few men to spare for this duty except civilians as drivers and guards so you are in command."

"Me?" the squire said in a shocked tone.

"Yes, you. Why not? You have proved yourself capable. Just keep them going and if any wagons get stuck too badly leave them. And don't let any drivers run away. The Blackfish and Lord Edmure just left a short while ago and will not be far ahead and soon you will catch up. If you run into trouble form a defense and wait for help. I promise I will have you made a knight as soon as we get to Harrenhal."

"I...I'm sorry we did not leave sooner."

"Not to worry. Now off you go."

She sat up then and looked back at Tyrion as Pod climbed into the back with her. "Goodbye, my love," she said.

He grinned and nodded. "I will be there soon enough. Be safe…my love."

The wagon lurched as the driver hit the mules with his whip and soon they pulled away from the small house and started moving south. More wagons joined them and soon a long line was moving, with a few men on horse back riding ahead and to the sides. Podrick sat up by the driver and soon she was feeling the cold badly. She huddled under her blankets and pulled the luggage and some sacks of flour around her for more warmth and wondered if she would ever feel warm again. As the wagon slowly bumped along she felt its rhythmic swaying lull her into sleep.

Shae did not know how much time passed but when she awoke the wagon was still. It was still daytime she felt but it was so gloomy she was not really sure. A light snow was falling and the blankets covering her were covered with a thin layer of the white substance. Shae shook the cobwebs from her head and then heard a noise. It was like a wheezing noise, as if someone was breathing heavily. She looked at the end of the wagon and then she screamed.

The wight had half a face and gaping holes in its chest, reddish bloodstains dried on a white surcoat with the sigil she did not know. It had two towers connected by what looked like a bridge. It its hand the wight had a sword and it was trying to climb into the wagon. But it only had one arm and could not figure out how to do so with the sword in its only hand. She screamed again and then a sword sliced through the air and the head came off the wight. Pod was there, and another man as well, who thrust a torch into the wight's body. In seconds it flared up and screeched in the hideous way they did when they died again.

"What's happening?" Shae asked, her voice full of fear.

"We stopped to free a stuck wagon and they attacked," Pod said, strangely without a trace of stutter or stammer. "We killed most of them."

Shae climbed out of the wagon and he helped her down. They were on the Kingsroad, but she could barely make out the shape of the road or the ditches to the side there was so much snow. To the right was a stand of trees and it was from there the wights had attacked them, Pod told her. All along the road there were small fires and small columns of smoke where wight bodies were burning.

"Did we lose anyone?" Shae asked.

"Two men," he told her. "We had to burn them."

Ten minutes later they were moving again, slowly heading south, trying to stick to the road. Then a short while later they came over a rising hill. Down the other side in a small valley was a stand of forest with a stream, frozen, with a wooden bridge across it. The bridge was narrow and barely wide enough for one wagon. The first four wagons had crossed and a fifth was on the bridge and Shae and Pod's wagon was next when the second attack came.

The wights were under the bridge and more came from the woods to the right and onto the icy stream. They climbed up from under the bridge and started hacking at the mules' and horses' legs. The animals began to scream in terror and some bolted and pulled their wagons off in dangerous ways, some tipping over and others crashing into trees, spilling drivers and cargos all over the road and its sides. Pod jumped out to attack the wights ahead of them and then the mules pulling Shae's wagon were attacked as well. They bolted and pulled the wagon to the right side of the bridge and down the side of the stream's bank and onto the narrow ribbon of frozen water.

As the wagon lurched Shae tried to hold on but the bouncing unseated her and she was flung from the wagon and onto the ice. She cracked her head and felt a wave of dizziness engulf her.

Screams she heard and the sound of swords clashing as she struggled to her feet. As if in a fog she saw the fight. Some were fighting but more men were running in terror only to be struck down from behind by wights. Shae's wagon had lurched up the other side of the stream and the driver was being dragged off it by two wights and then he was on the ground being stabbed to death. Pod was by her side with his sword out and in front of him were three hideous things that had once been men.

The fight was not even but Pod held his own against the slower opponents. Shae saw a sword lying on the ice and ran to it and in seconds had it swinging and the rotten head came off one of Pod's attackers. Another wight one came from behind her and bashed her with something hard across the upper right arm. She felt great pain and as she screamed she dropped her sword. The hideous thing that had struck her was wearing the sigil of the Lannisters. As Shae thought she was about to die she almost laughed at the gods' sense of humor, her being killed by one of Cersei's minions, the bitch getting what she wanted at last.

Shae's body had the sense to try to avoid the swinging mace and as her left foot moved she slipped on the ice and went down hard on her backside, the heavy mace in the wight's hand missing her body by mere inches. The mace was raised up high to come down on her head but then something flew into the wight and it was knocked sideways.

Pod was on the wight and shoved his sword into its face and then got to his feet. As Shae rose to try to help him, another wight dealt the fatal blow.

The spear went into Pod's neck at the back where his chain mail under his furs did not protect him. It came out the other side, through his throat, with a great gout of blood pouring from the wound. The spear was yanked out and Pod's body fell on top of the wight he had been fighting. The boy never made a sound as he died.

"NOOOOO!" Shae screamed as she looked in horror at his lifeless form and his red blood pouring out onto the ice. She wanted to run to his side but the wight that had killed the young squire now turned to her. She knew she was about to die now for certain. All the drivers were dead or running, the few civilians, half-trained soldiers, were also dead or running. She was all alone on an icy stream far from home and the man she loved.

"DIE!" screamed a voice and then a horse was leaping onto the ice in front of her and a sword was slashing down, cutting the wight's right arm off at the shoulder. More horses were there and more men, on foot, all with green surcoats with a golden rose on them. In moments all the wights were dead again and burning and then her savior dismounted and introduced himself.

"Ser Loras Tyrell, my lady…oh…it's you," said the handsome young knight of the Reach, a surprised look on his face. "Shae, is it not?"

"The Imp's Whore, yes, it's me," she said and wondered how he knew her, and then wondered if he would have saved her if he had known who she was before he attacked. "Thank you for saving me. But…why are you here?"

"Stannis sent us back to look for stragglers. I took command because frankly I would rather be killing Stannis so thought some distance from him would do me good."

But Shae had hardly heard him. She walked over to Pod's body. The wight below it was still twitching. "This one is not dead again yet."

A Tyrell man dragged the wight out and thrust a torch it its face. As it screamed its death scream she looked at Pod's body. "Help me with Lord Tyrion's squire. Let's put him in a wagon."

"We must burn him," said the man with the torch

"Not yet," Shae said forcefully, struggling not to break down in tears. "Not till his lord has said goodbye."

* * *

**Tyrion **

The retreating column trudged through the snow, the cold making them all miserable. Tyrion Lannister was more miserable than most, used to a life of comfort and ease unlike most of the rest. Bronn had slept outdoors many a day of his life Tyrion knew, and Stark and his son and Ser Wendel were of the North and seemed to have blood that did not freeze. Clegane looked frozen as much as he but inside he knew the Hound lived and fought and kept on for the love he felt for a woman. That in part kept Tyrion going as well. Shae was out there ahead of them somewhere and Tyrion wanted to reach her soon and then press on to Harrenhal and the promise of food, wine and the warmth of her arms.

His dreams of such were interrupted by Stark as his horse fell back to ride beside Tyrion's. "Howland Reed told me all," said the voice by his side and Tyrion sighed. He knew this conversation would happen sooner or later once he heard Howland Reed had arrived on the Trident.

"And so now you know the truth," Tyrion said. "As you suspected all along and as your son remembered."

"I will hear you say it as well," Ned replied, his words hard to hear in the wind.

"Very well," Tyrion replied in aloud tone. "Jaime pushed your son from that damn window because he saw my sister and brother fucking."

Stark was silent for a moment and Tyrion thought he had misheard. Then he spoke and Tyrion knew it was not over yet. "You will admit as much to Stannis and the realm."

"To Stannis perhaps but never to the realm."

Stark grunted. "I expected such. Even now you try to protect them. They who have dragged us through so much blood. How can you defend their crimes?"

"They are family. Need I say more? You kept a secret for more than sixteen years to protect your blood."

"I did," Stark admitted. "But hiding Jon's true parentage did not cause anyone to be crippled or killed."

"Well, you have me there."

"Jaime must pay for what he did to Bran, one way or another."

"Not with my help and I will protect him if I can. Of course, justice is your right, so if you ever see him again I am sure you will find a way to make him pay. Or at least try. As for Cersei, she is mine to kill, so stay out of it."

That startled him. "Yours to…kill?"

"Yes, Lord Stark. I have concluded that which I am sure you have as well. Cersei will never give up trying to put Myrcella on the Iron Throne. She will get us all killed sooner or later, or at least ruin my family in the process. So she must die."

"She's your sister," Stark said in disbelief.

"Hardly. She has been nothing but a menace to me since the day I was born. Once she actually wanted to throw me off a ship far out at sea but Jaime convinced her not to do so. Back at Casterly Rock while you were fighting your wars in the North she tried to have Shae killed, she tried to remove me from power, and she most certainly succeeded in humiliating me."

"This news I have heard."

"So you can understand why I have no love for her. She must die, Lord Stark, so the realm can live. Surely you can see the logic of that?"

"I can. And what about Myrcella?"

He sighed. "Hopefully I can convince Stannis to let her live here in peace. But I fear Jaime will have no desire to just let things go and get on with our lives. Stannis or his red women killed our father, and Jaime will want justice for that as much as you do for your son. The best I can hope for Jaime is that he decides to go into exile on his own. But that is a slim hope."

"Tyrion…surely you know that killing Cersei will not set well with him."

"No, it will not. But that is my burden to bear when the time comes. As for Myrcella, she is still my niece and will be my heir until I have a child of my own, if the gods ever allow me to know such joy. If Stannis tries to take her head I will fight him to the last."

"You cannot fight the whole realm."

"No…but you could convince Stannis to leave the girl alone and that she is no danger to him once she renounces any claims to the Iron Throne."

"Mayhaps."

"Your answer makes me think there is a price to pay."

"Admit what Jaime did to Bran to the realm and I will see that Myrcella will live a life without fear."

"Ah…a dilemma. I must think on this."

"As you wish."

"You know, Lord Stark," Tyrion said after a few moments. "All this will be moot if we all die at Harrenhal."

"Aye, it will."

On they moved for another hour and then they came on some piles of ash by the roadside.

"There was a fight here," Robb Stark said as he rode back to them from near the front, his pet direwolf by his side as always. "I fear it is worse further on."

They rode over a hill and down the other side there was a stream and bridge, and near it were many broken wagons, but no horses or other animals or people were nearby. Yet again there were piles of ash from burning wights and people, and in some places blood stained the snow and ice where men had died. Tyrion felt a lump forming in his throat. He had sent Shae and Pod this way ahead of them.

"Gods," he exclaimed. "BRONN!" he shouted and in moments the sellsword came up from the rearguard. "Take fifty men and ride fast ahead. Find Shae and Pod. Find them quickly."

Bronn obeyed and Robb Stark and his pet went with them as well. Tyrion felt sick to his stomach. He should have made them wait for him and the rest but he hadn't known when they would be pulling back and he wanted them away. He should have sent more men with them. He should have….but now it was too late.

Thirty minutes later they came over another hill with the snow blowing from the right side of the road. Down below in a little valley there was a battle in progress. Bronn and his men and Robb Stark were attacking a large body of wights from behind. The objective of the wights were a large group of what looked like Tyrell cavalry. When Robb Stark started to slice wights into nothing with his father's great sword Ice the wights started to flee in all directions. More were run down but many got away, moving over the snow with ease while the horses and men struggled.

And there in the middle of this snowing bloody valley of the Kingsroad Tyrion found Shae…and Pod.

He was lying in a wagon, covered with a blanket. Shae cried and cried and told him how he saved her but then had died and she was helpless and almost dead herself when Loras Tyrell had saved her. Tyrion could only stare at the body and by his side Bronn and the Hound cursed and said many oaths to the gods. Nearby Stark and his son were talking to Loras Tyrell but Tyrion heard nothing. He wanted to cry but found no tears would come.

"We must burn him," Bronn was saying in his ear.

"Yes," Tyrion said at last. The Hound had already gathered some men to cut some wood from nearby trees. In a short time they had a bed of sticks laid out on the snow and someone even found some oil in one of the surviving wagons. After the oil was placed on the wood, Bronn and the Hound took Pod's body from the wagon and placed it on the funeral pyre.

Bronn was about to put a torch to it but Tyrion stopped him. "Wait. I have a debt to pay to Podrick."

He looked about and his eyes fell on one of the cavalry men making up the rearguard. "You, Ser Thomas. Come here."

Ser Thomas Westerling had arrived with fifty men a few days before the battle, claiming Cersei gave him orders to bring back Shae, the Hound and Theon Greyjoy to the Tooth …and if they gave him trouble their heads would suffice. He had shown Tyrion his written orders and Tyrion had promptly torn them up and berated the man for being Cersei's lackey. "I am the Lord of House Lannister and your liege lord and never forget that," Tyrion had told him and promised to destroy him and his family if he dared try to carry out Cersei's orders. Then he sent him and his men across the river to do their duty for the realm. Somehow Westerling had survived the battles and now he would do one more duty for Tyrion.

"You will make him a knight," Tyrion said to Ser Thomas Westerling.

"But…my lord…he is dead," came the confused reply.

"I know he is dead," Tyrion said, his voice cracking a bit. "But I promised I would make him a knight. It is a debt I owe and a Lannister always pays his debts."

"Yes, my lord," Ser Thomas said and then he pulled out his sword and touched the blade on the right shoulder of Pod's body, said the appropriate words, and then put his sword away.

"Now, Ser Podrick Payne," Tyrion said in a soft voice. "I commit your body to the heavens." He then turned to Bronn who handed him a torch. Bronn had another for himself. Together Tyrion and Bronn put the torches to the wood and after a brief moment the oil caught and it began to burn. As the fire engulfed Pod's remains Tyrion finally found himself able to weep and felt the tears freeze on his cheeks as they tried to flow down to his ragged growth of beard. Shae knelt in the snow beside him and wrapped her arms around him as she sobbed.

"Goodbye, my friend," Bronn said, his voice full of as much emotion as Tyrion had ever heard. Then he turned to Tyrion and Shae. "We must go."

Bronn helped Shae up and then they mounted their horses, Shae on the back of Tyrion's, and they moved with the column into the white hell before them. He finally noticed Shae had a problem with her right arm but she said it was nothing to worry about. The Hound cursed the gods one more time and then turned away from the funeral pyre to ready the rearguard for the continued journey.

For a long time they moved forward, with Loras Tyrell and his men in front, the bulk of the wagons and foot soldiers in the middle, with Stark and his son, Ser Wendel, and Tyrion and Shae riding beside them, while Bronn and the Hound brought up the rearguard again. Many outriders they sent to the sides to make sure there were no more ambushes. On they went, with Ser Loras leading them back the way he had come from Stannis' forces, and the Blackfish and Ser Edmure's men who he had passed earlier in the day. Down hills and up hills, across more snow covered frozen streams, past copses of wood that gave some brief respite from the winds, and on and on. The few houses they passed were abandoned and no people they saw anywhere. It seemed like the nightmare of snow and cold would never end. No more wight attacks came, however, and then after a few more hours darkness came and soon after the column stopped. Ned, Robb, and Tyrion rode to the front.

"What is it?" Tyrion asked Ned Stark as he peered off in the snowy darkness.

"Many fires ahead," Ser Loras said and now Tyrion could see them as well.

Bronn had come up behind them. "Bloody hell, what are we waiting for?" he exclaimed. "The Others don't light fires."

On they moved and they soon found it was the Blackfish and Lord Edmure, with Sansa and Howland Reed and the long line of wagons with many wounded. They had reached the limits of endurance for one day and were making camp for the night in a broad valley that offered some shelter from the wind. They were still short of the road that turned west to Harrenhal and would have to try for it the next day. Ned wanted to press on but in the darkness and snow filled landscape they might lose their way and were better off resting and waiting for daylight. Yet the Others and their wights could very well attack them once again. So they put the wounded in tents and moved all the wagons into a circle and built many fires and had more men move into nearby copses of wood to chop down as much firewood as they could. When the tents were set up and food cooked and eaten they all settled down for what might prove to be a long, cold, sleepless night.

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa was glad to see her father and brother again but she was also still mad at her father and she did not like this feeling one bit. Back at the village by the Ruby Ford he had shouted at her in front of everyone, though she was not sure how many had actually heard them in the wind and snow. At home he never shouted, but always spoke in a stern voice when they had been bad. Her mother had been the one to shout, as had Septa Mordane. But never her father. Now he was mad, and she knew it was not because she was slow in getting back to the village. It was because of Sandor.

Sansa's heart had almost melted despite the freezing weather when Sandor admitted his love for her. She had to tell him about Willas Tyrell, and was hurt by his reaction, and then when he admitted his love for her she had nearly died from joy. But there was nothing they could do about it, nothing they could ever do about it, and she had left him by the ford with her heart feeling more sadness than joy.

The rest of the day and night passed in a long nightmare. Men were hurt, blood was spilled, and her hands were soon caked with it as well. Robb gave her two boys to help her but they were almost useless, more sacred than she was, and all they were good for was carrying hot water and helping men into and out of the healing tent. She had no more milk of the poppy and none was to be had anywhere in the armies the Lannister maesters had told her. She had plenty of wine, though, and used it both inside and out to help the wounded men.

When she was to told to pack up and prepare to move, three men were still inside the tent, one with a broken arm, another with a smashed kneecap, and the third with a stab wound in his upper thigh. She was sewing the wound shut with catgut when the order came. All three were drinking wine and were in a state of shock from their pain. Getting them into a wagon was a chore and then taking down the tent and packing it and her meager supplies was more of a chore. The two boys kept complaining about the cold and snow and how they wish they had never left White Harbor.

"Why did you then?" Sansa snapped at one of them, the smaller one, whose name was Jorge he said. He had thick black hair and a lazy eye, the left one.

"Cause we're orphans," said the other one, Pete, who was a redhead and had many freckles. "This fat lord so and so came to the orphanage and dragged us off cause we were the two oldest. He said we had to do our duty for the lord of White Harbor and had to go off and be servants for the knights and lords going to the war."

"Gods," Sansa swore. "How awful."

Pete shrugged. "Better than the stinking orphanage. Least the food is better in the army."

Sansa felt bad for them but still they were almost useless and she had no time to teach them anything. "At least get some weapons and torches so you can protect us if the wights get here." They obeyed her and had come back with a short sword each and some torches. Nymeria was with her also during these days. Sometimes Sansa tried to see if Arya's eyes were there in Nymeria but she never felt it was so again.

Then came the order to move and after they packed up they started off to the ford. No one came along to be their driver and the two orphans had no clue how to so. It was up to Sansa to take the reins and lead on and after a few nervous moments she got the hang of it…mostly. Sansa had ridden horses since she was a little girl but this was a different thing altogether. She did fair, or at least she thought so, but at the ford she didn't trust her skills and so got down and led the horses and wagon across with her on foot hold the reins, with Nymeria walking beside her. When she finally arrived at the small village her father publicly berated her and Sansa felt sick to her stomach afterwards but then this feeling was replaced by anger.

After she got the three wounded settled in the small house there was no more time to be angry. More and more men came in with stab wounds and broken bones, and scrapes and nicks and tears in their flesh. Sansa helped the Tyrell maesters and then the Lannister maesters all through the night. More and more men were loaded onto wagons and driven south to what they hoped would be a refuge at Harrenhal. Robb had dropped by and told her all the talk that had gone on at the commander's conference. And he also told her Mace Tyrell was dead. Sansa barely understood what this meant and only later when she had a break outside the Lannister healing tent did she grasp it all. She would be the first lady of the Reach. If the wedding ever happened. With Lord Tyrell dead she knew not what the future would be.

"Gods," she said to herself as she leaned against a wagon near the side of the tent.

"Not here," said a voice and out of the snow and darkness stepped Sandor Clegane.

"What?" she said in surprise, more so at seeing him than his words.

"There are no gods here, little bird. They've all flown away from this cursed place. As will we soon."

He hadn't called her 'little bird' in a long time and she smiled at the memory of it. "Sandor…Mace Tyrell is truly dead?"

"Aye. His prissy son saw him fall through the ice."

"Then…if he is dead… if…I mean…will they even let me marry Willas. If…"

"Aye. Many 'ifs' are to come, little bird. But think not on them. You should be away from here."

"So said my father. He wants me to go to Saltpans and then back to White Harbor."

He said nothing for a long moment and she could hardly see his face in the snow and darkness but then came one word. "Aye."

"I won't go."

"Don't stay because of me."

That hurt but she gritted her teeth and held her emotions in check. "Still you push me away even after the words we said to each other not a day ago."

"Words we said and we both meant them. But you will be safer in the North."

"And if the ship sinks? If White Harbor falls?"

"Too many 'ifs' again. Stay or go, die or live, no one knows what will happen."

"Then we have no time," she said, as bold as she could, and when he did not move she stepped away from the wagon and came up to him. She thought he would turn from her but he did not moved at all. She reached up and touched his face, the side with the scars, and she felt him flinch and then he let out a long sigh. "Please…don't go," he said, almost in tears.

"I won't," she told him and she stood on her toes and then he bent to her and his lips touched hers, briefly, for a moment and then he pulled back.

"Don't stop," she said as she swayed on tiptoes.

"If I don't stop I will go all the way," he answered in a hoarse whisper. "You want that too, I know. But this is no place for that…my love."

He turned and left her then and she wondered if it had been a dream. Sansa fell back on her feet and stood there and let out a gasp, feeling flushed all over, her body seemingly on fire. Yes, she wanted that as well. But he was right, this was not the place or time for that. Not yet.

The dawn came and many men thanked the gods and soon they were packing and readying to leave. Stannis and most of the Tyrells had gone hours past and she would soon leave with her uncles and Howland Reed and his people. When the time came she looked for Sandor but he was no where to be seen. Her father and brother came by and gave her words of advice and Robb found a good driver for their wagon. Nymeria came with her as well while Grey Wind stayed with Robb as always. Soon she said goodbye to them once more. She felt her father wanted to say more but he didn't. As the wagon pulled away Sansa collapsed into an exhausted sleep in the back and told Pete and Jorge to wake her only if someone needed her help. The two boys were afraid of Nymeria but Sansa curled up with the direwolf on the floor of the wagon and soon began to slumber. It had been more than a day since she had slept and as she felt the sweetness of sleep come over her Sansa imagined she felt those lips on hers once more and then she slipped into a deep sleep.

* * *

**Robb**

Fortunately by the time Robb, his father, and the last people left the Ruby Ford much of the snow on the Kingsroad had been beaten down by those preceding them. This made their passage much faster, even though Tyrion Lannister still complained about their conditions. As they moved they passed abandoned wagons and here and there small piles of bones and ash where men had fallen out, dead from exhaustion or their injuries, and had been burned by their comrades. Robb and Grey Wind were with the advanced guard and Bronn and the Hound had the rear. For much of the journey his father and Tyrion Lannister were deep in conversation though Robb did not know what was said. Only later did he learn that Howland Reed had the Imp's confession at the Twins and now Lord Stark knew as well.

Then came a heartbreaking scene as they came across a band of wights harassing part of the preceding columns. After routing the wights, with much help given by Ice in his hands, Robb had stood by while Tyrion Lannister burned the body of his squire. As they prepared his body Robb and his father talked with Loras Tyrell.

"Stannis asked for volunteers to come back and make sure all was well and the road clear of the enemy," Ser Loras began. "I immediately said I would do so."

"Well and good you did or we would have more people to burn," Ned Stark replied as they looked over at the burning pyre. "A shame. The lad was so young."

Later they came across the Blackfish, Lord Edmure, Howland Reed, and Sansa as they were making camp for the night, still short of the turn off the Kingsroad toward Harrenhal. The camp was placed on the west side of the Kingsroad in a flat area at the bottom of a broad valley that had a stream and was interspersed with some copses of trees. Robb's father and Tyrion decided they should rest as well, as it was getting too late to press on. All got busy putting up tents, building fires, cutting firewood, and preparing defenses. Robb came across some men trying to turn over a wagon to make a barrier in a gap between two stands of trees but it was too heavy for them. Then the Hound approached and with his brute strength they soon had it tipped on its side.

The Hound began to walk away but Robb called out to him. "I would have words with you, Sandor Clegane."

He stopped and turned and his face was a scowl. "Your father already has had words with me. I don't need to here the same from you."

"You know it can never be, my sister and you."

The Hound ignored him and walked away and Robb let him go. Nearby someone laughed and it was Bronn, of course. "Quite the problem, aye?"

"Aye," Robb said and then he looked at Bronn. "How did it happen?"

Bronn shrugged. "Who knows? The world works in funny ways."

"That it does." Robb looked up at the night sky and it seemed to be clearing of clouds. "Might be we will get a respite from the snow."

Bronn looked up as well. "Aye, maybe. But not from the enemy."

He was right. Four hours after dark the sky had cleared and a half moon came out to give them some light. A crisp cold came down on them, so cold it made men want to scream. Fires they built up and wood they burned but there seemed to be no escape except if they stood almost with their feet in a fire. Many of the wounded were in agony and Sansa and the maesters had nothing but wine for their aches.

Soon the animals began to whinny and cry out and then one mule dropped to the snow. The teamsters said the cold killed it and then another one died. They tried to get the animals closer to the fires and that saved them but it made the whole camp a mass of confusion. And in this confusion came the attack.

With men shivering at their posts, animals untied and roaming free, the wights came at them from all sides. Again their were no Others, or at least they couldn't see any. But many of their minions came, and for two hours the attacks came from all sides and they held them and pushed them back and burned them and had to burn their own dead. Wounded men kept falling back from the perimeter and into the healing tents and soon their numbers were half what they had started with. More men had to be held back to control the animals who were in a panicky state. Only by some miracle they did not break and run on a rampage through the camp.

During the battles Lord Stark and Tyrion stayed on horseback in the middle just behind the lines with the last of the Lannister cavalry and Ser Loras and his men by their sides, ready to move forward to plug any gaps in the lines, which they had to do often. During one lull Robb's father ordered him to move with fifty men of their men to part of the line where most of the attacks had recently concentrated. Here ten wagons had been overturned and a parapet of snow built up behind them so men could stand and fight and see over the wagons. The snow turned mostly solid in the cold but still they had treacherous footing under them.

Also with Robb were Ser Wendel, and Lord Edmure and the Blackfish, with Bronn and the Hound nearby as well. Nymeria and Grey Wind Robb had left with Sansa to protect her and the wounded. The two direwolves did not like it but Robb and his father felt better knowing they were with Sansa. Behind them the last barrel of oil was tapped and torches and fire arrows were soaked in the black stuff and given to men to be ready to light them. Many of Howland Reed's people were quite well-schooled in using bows and slings and their leader had them in a line ready to fire their missiles at any wights that got through the fighting men in front.

Long they stood and shivered and felt their limbs grown numb from the cold. Their earlier exertions had made them all sweat and now the sweat was freezing and many were getting the first signs of illness that would plague them in days to come, those that survived that is. All had ice and snow in their beards and hair and their exposed skin was red and in places black patches had appeared on nose tips where frostbite was taking hold.

The moon was out and across the snowy field towards the Kingsroad and across the frozen stream that ran through the valley the field was white and looked like a crisp sheet on a newly made bed. And then came one black spot across the Kingsroad, then another, and then ten at once, and soon hundreds were coming across the field of snow, across the stream next, all at the same plodding pace, heading right for them.

"Archers!" Ned Stark called out from behind the line and Howland's people and the last of the Lannister and Northern bowmen lit their arrows afire and sent them into the air and over the wagons. Many hit targets but not enough and the wights kept coming. More arrows flew and more wights fell but more kept coming. And then they were at the wagon barrier and began to climb it.

For thirty minutes the living men hacked at and burned and killed dead men again. In Robb's hands Ice slew dozens, chopping off hands and heads and digging into shoulders and ravaged faces. But Ice was the only Valyrian steel weapon they had. Robb's arms ached and all around him men panted and grunted and fought for their lives. Bronn and the Hound slew many with the help of men with torches standing among the fighting men. The Blackfish and Lord Edmure did so as well.

Men they lost too…and then one more.

The wight climbed on top of the overturned wagon and stabbed his sword down at Lord Edmure Tully, piercing his flesh where the chain mail was weak under the left armpit and down he went with a cry of pain. His uncle the Blackfish cut the legs from under the wight and as its body toppled over into the inside of the barricade someone thrust a torch into it. Lord Edmure was dragged back to the healing tents and Robb saw him no more.

Then came a cry on the far left of the line that the wights were inside the perimeter. Tyrion Lannister and Robb's father had held back their cavalry for such an eventuality and now they sent Ser Loras and the rest charging forward at their combined shouted commands.

Robb took Ser Wendel and ten men and went that way as well. As they move to the left suddenly at their right side came a great thrust of wights over the wagon barrier and into the few men left holding this spot. Robb and Ser Wendel and their men turned and attacked and in the melee that followed Ser Wendel got a sword cut that sliced off his nose and lips and mustache and turned his face into a gibbering mess of blood as he tried to scream. He fell to his knees in the snow with his hands over his face and then a spear was thrust into his left thigh above the knee where he had no armor and his blood spurted out in great gouts and he convulsed and died in the snow.

Robb turned and saw the wight that had given that first dreadful cut to Ser Wendel and with a shock and sense of utter horror he knew who it was.

Theon Greyjoy, now a wight.

"THEON!" Robb shouted. "You should have stayed dead!"

But the thing that used to be Theon Greyjoy only looked at him. In the moonlight Robb thought he saw a sense of anger in those icy blue eyes but then the eyes widened when they saw him…and recognized him, Robb was sure of it. Theon had his bloody sword up but as Robb approached he lowered it to his side. Then he bowed his head and kept it bowed. Robb knew what Theon wanted. "Aye, for the friendship we once had I will free you from this curse."

With one slice Ice took off Theon's head. As it landed in the snow it turned up to look at Robb and for a brief moment in the moonlight Robb thought he saw Theon smile. Then the head and body began to sizzle and burn and Theon Greyjoy was no more.

Robb and his men destroyed the rest of the wights with a few more losses. The wight penetration on the left was soon contained by Ser Loras and the cavalry and then the attacks ended soon after and came no more that night. They had to stay vigilant still and with the coming of the dawn and the rising sun, full and bright and lovingly warm in a cloudless sky for once, they began to relax somewhat.

"Father…Theon's wight was in the attack," Robb said when they met.

"Aye? And?"

"He is truly dead now."

Ned Stark sighed. "Then it is over. May the gods judge him as they see fit. Come let us see to our men."

It was then they learned Edmure Tully was dead.

Sansa was in tears as she told Robb and their father and the Blackfish outside the healing tent. "The blood," she stammered. "It was too much. By the time we got off his chain mail he was gone." Ned took her in his arms as she sobbed and hugged her tight and told her she had done all she could.

Robb felt sick to his stomach. "Mother will grieve for him."

"As will we all," said the Blackfish sadly. He looked at Ned as he and Sansa separated. "Catelyn is now the Lady of Riverrun. If there is a Riverrun to return to when the wars are over."

"There will be time to discuss all such things later," Ned replied. "Let us rest while we can for a short time. Then we must make for Harrenhal."

"First we must say goodbye," the Blackfish said.

A short time later they burned the bodies, Lord Edmure's, and Ser Wendel's, and even the man who had knighted the Imp's squire the day before, Ser Thomas Westerling, who had died in the last cavalry charge. Almost three hundred more men were dead, and in large piles they burned their bodies.

While Sansa continued to care for the wounded Robb and his father finally had a respite and came back to the tent they were sharing. The girl Sheila was there, preparing food for them, and they gratefully accepted the meal. Robb's father crawled onto a cot and slept for a while after he ate, but Robb was too keyed up. He went to see to the men and their preparations for leaving for Harrenhal. There was no way they could survive another night out here.

An hour later he woke his father and the camp began to pack up. Later that day in the late afternoon they finally arrived at Harrenhal, many hundreds of men fewer than when they had left the Ruby Ford the day before. To their surprise they found many piles of burnt ash outside the walls of the massive fortress. A man in Stannis' colors told them they had to fight a battle just to get into the castle the evening before. Without waiting for anymore news Robb and his father went straight inside to find the King. They took Sheila with them, and when Tyrion Lannister saw them and learned where they were going he tagged along as well, with Bronn following as always.

"It is time to settle all matters with the King," Tyrion said.

"Aye," Robb's father answered. "Though I fear he will not like what I have to say."

* * *

**Stannis**

"There is the enemy," Stannis said to Lord Royce. "You wanted to fight. Now is your chance."

They were on the road that led from the Kingsroad to Harrenhal, and the great fortress loomed in front of them in the late afternoon, the gloomy cloudy day making it seem almost night.

"As you command, Your Grace," Lord Royce said and with a smile on his face and a few shouted commands he led his mass of cavalry down on the wights and the few Others leading them. It was no contest, the Vale cavalry outnumbering the enemy and in thirty minutes the enemy were all dead or scattered and the way into Harrenhal was theirs….for all it was worth, a jumbled down, broken mess that it was. But at least it provided some shelter and some measure of defense.

Inside Lord Mathis Rowan greeted them at the main gates, with profuse words of thanks. "Lord Stannis, we are glad to see you arrive and…"

"King Stannis," Ser Godry said coldly from his horse.

Lord Rowan's face darkened. "I know King Tommen is dead but until my liege lord bends the knee I…"

"He has bent the knee," Baelish told him as he climbed off his horse. "Though now I fear he is dead."

Lord Rowan look at them in confusion. "Dead…but…how?"

Lord Tarly finally arrived and had heard the last. "It is true," he said. "Our lord fell through the ice when the river broke up. Loras tried to save him but could not."

"And Loras? No, do not tell me he is dead as well."

"He lives," Stannis said, as he climbed off his horse. "We sent him back to protect the road and help the supply columns coming behind us."

Tarly spoke next. "Lord Tyrell agreed to bend the knee, my friend. With Tommen dead…we had no choice."

"So it seems," Rowan replied. He then looked at Stannis and dipped his head. "My King, Harrenhal is yours to command."

"Good," Stannis replied, glad this foolishness was over. "Where is Theon Greyjoy and my cupbearer?"

Now Rowan was more confused. "Greyjoy? My King, no one name Greyjoy has arrived here. And I do not know your cupbearer."

"I sent Theon Greyjoy back here with a girl named Sheila. She had important messages for the maester."

"They never arrived, my King."

"Damn," Stannis cursed softly. He had looked for them in the confusion of leaving and when he did not see them he assumed they had pressed on ahead as he had ordered.

He turned to all the lords gathered around him. "Very well. Lord Baelish, go with Lord Rowan and see how our supply situation is. Lord Tarly, take command of the defenses. Lord Royce, ready your cavalry for patrol duty. Ser Godry and Ser Justin, see that everyone is housed properly and the wounded cared for and then join Lord Tarly and do as he commands."

"And where will you be, Your Grace?" Baelish asked.

"With the maesters in the rookery. I have messages to send."

Rowan showed him the way to the maester's tower and soon Stannis was inside their stuffy quarters. Three maesters the Tyrells had left here to tend the wounded and to deal with the ravens. As Stannis entered only one was present, the other two caring for wounded men, he said. He was young and looked like he hadn't forged many links in his chain.

"I need to send an urgent message to Dragonstone. Do you have any birds?"

"Just the one, Your Grace."

Stannis wrote out a new message, sealed it and in a short time the bird was off. Then Stannis got busy with many tasks which occupied him most of the night and into the next day.

Late the next afternoon Ned Stark and Tyrion Lannister finally arrived with the rearguard. Stark's son was with him, and the man Bronn who followed Lord Tyrion like he was his shadow. To his surprise the girl Sheila was with them as well. They all looked like they had been through some kind of hell.

"Report," was the first thing Stannis said to them as he sat behind a table in Lady Whent's solar which was now Stannis' command post. He did not ask them to sit.

"We spent the night under attack, my King," Ned Stark said to him. "We lost about four hundred men to all causes. Many more are wounded. Lord Tully…is dead."

"Dead?" Stannis said in surprise. He had no strong feelings for Lord Edmure but his death without an heir would mean problems in setting things to order when the war was done.

"Aye, from a sword wound," Robb Stark told him. "We also lost Ser Wendel Manderly."

"And my squire," Tyrion added in a quiet voice.

"Who?" Stannis asked bluntly.

"My squire, Podrick…sorry, Ser Podrick Payne. I had him knighted after he died."

Stannis just nodded and then told them all to sit. Shelia stood there in confusion and Stannis looked to her. "You are well?" he asked.

"Yes, my King, Lord Stark's men found me and took me and protected me. I'm sorry…I was attacked. I got lost. I…failed you."

"Not to worry," Stannis said. "You may resume your duties. In my bedroom off to the right you will find my clothing. Bring them to the washerwomen. You know the way?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Harrenhal is my home." The girl went off after a dip of her head.

"A good servant," Stannis said after she was gone. "I thank you for helping her."

"Aye," said Ned and then his face grew troubled and he reached into his pocket and took out a small raven scroll and Stannis knew his own face showed surprise and he could not control it.

"Where did you get this?" he asked with a touch of anger in his tone.

"I took it from her, she did not give it willingly."

Stark placed it on the table and Tyrion looked confused. "What's this?" Tyrion asked and then seemed to understand. "Oh, yes, Bronn mentioned something about a message."

"It's the King's order to kill my daughter's husband," Stark said as he stared at Stannis.

"You dared to read it?" Stannis asked in anger and then realized he had been duped. The scroll was unopened.

"No, Your Grace," Stark replied. "That would have been treason."

"It would have been."

"She is mad, my King," Stark said in almost a pleading tone. "It is impossible. You will kill your own blood. You cannot ordered her to do this terrible thing."

Stannis stared at him. "The word 'cannot' should not be said lightly to your King, Lord Stark."

"Aye. But know this. I once went to war with a king who killed my kin."

Stannis felt his anger rising again and he could not control it. He stood and so did Stark. "Such a threat is treason!" he managed to say through gritted teeth.

"It is!" Stark said, his face red with his own anger now, his son standing beside him holding onto his arm, fear on his face that his father would do something rash. "You made a promise, you gave your word! I stayed my hand. I did not harm Baelish or Theon. And this is how you pay me for my loyalty?"

"I need Baelish and Greyjoy for our wars!"

"Greyjoy is dead," Tyrion said, so calm for such a situation.

"What?" Stannis replied in surprise.

"Aye, killed by the wights and turned into one of them," Robb Stark told him. "I killed him…what was once him…last night, Your Grace."

"So…he is dead," Stannis said without any emotion. Greyjoy had just been a tool to use where he was needed. He suddenly felt the need to speak to the Starks alone. He looked at Tyrion. "Leave us be, Lord Tyrion. This is a private matter between Lord Stark and myself."

Tyrion sighed. "As you wish. You know, I was going to bend the knee to you just now, tell you all the things you wanted to hear, for a small price or two, of course. But now I think not. Maybe Myrcella would look good on the Iron Throne. Another Mad King we need not."

Stannis barely saw them his rage was so great and even Stark looked aghast at what Tyrion had just said. Tyrion stood and Bronn got up without a word, as if he cared not for what was happening. Stannis let them get as far as the door and then spoke, the anger in his voice clear. "Leave now and you will never be welcomed back into the fold!"

Tyrion's hand was on the door handle when Robb Stark spoke. "My lords, Your Grace, we must stay this madness. We have enemies enough, do we not?"

"I want this bickering to end as well," his father said, his voice calmer. He picked up the scroll from the table and held it out to Stannis. "Burn it, I beg of you, my King."

Stannis and Ned Stark stared at each other across the table and finally Stannis broke the stare and took the scroll, walked over to the hearth and its fire and dropped it in.

"It is done. You need not have worried, Lord Stark," Stannis said. "There are no birds for Dragonstone anyway." The lie came easier than he thought it would and by Stark's face and the way it relaxed he knew he had believed him.

They all stood looking at each other in an awkward silence. "Forgive me, my King," Stark said at last, his face and tone of one abashed and feeling foolish. "I will leave you now and cool my head. We can talk later about our plans."

"Very well," Stannis agreed and soon Stark and his son left.

"Yes, later seems better," Tyrion said. "When heads are cooler." Stannis wanted the little devil gone out of his sight and bid them goodbye as well.

He sat again and wondered how long it would take before Stark knew the truth. Only one other person knew he had sent a fresh message to Dragonstone.

When Sheila came back he told her to find Ser Godry. A short time later the large knight arrived. "Ser Godry…the young maester in charge of the ravens. Bring him here." Soon they returned.

Stannis stared at the man. "You are a maester of the Citadel, bound to serve, are you not?"

"I am, Your Grace," the man said, fear in his eyes.

"And you are bound to keep your lord's secrets, yes?"

"I am, Your Grace."

"Very well. Keep my secrets and we shall have no trouble. Understand?"

The large Ser Godry was standing behind the maester, looking menacing. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Return to your duties at once."

When the man was gone, Ser Godry looked troubled. "Your Grace, it would be easier to just kill him."

"It would. But that would arouse suspicion. No, better to put fear into his heart."

"Yes, Your Grace. What orders for the army commanders?"

"No orders."

"Your Grace?"

"The men know what to do. Baelish will put the supplies to rights. Tarly and Stark and the rest can defend this place. It is time we reconnected with our lord, Ser Godry. Gather the faithful and prepare for a large night fire. We must pray to our lord. Pray for fire to help us defeat these demon enemies. Pray for a winged beast to appear in the skies and bring us salvation. Otherwise we are doomed."


End file.
